


DMC: Sacrifices

by venomistress



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 53,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomistress/pseuds/venomistress
Summary: A year after the defeat of the false savior, Fortuna is invaded by an occult. Nero is persuaded to enlist the help of veteran demon hunter Dante to solve the mystery of the new threat. Together, the wayward partners travel to Constantine where they are met by some familiar faces from the past. As friends and enemies are made and lost, Nero learns the value of sacrifice.I wrote this a very long time ago, way before there were even any rumors of a DMC5. It's been on FF, but I had yet to put it on here.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Nero walked along the scarcely populated streets of Fortuna, casually glancing in all directions while ignoring the bell that tolled from atop the church. It was dusk and the setting sun painted the pale architecture with a soft peach glow, giving an innocent beauty to the town as its inhabitants hurried home.

The young man scowled at the sound that had went from a weekly occurrence to a daily one within the last month. It seemed pathetic to him that Fortuna had been forced to implement a curfew. Even more pathetic was the harsh reality that the city's population was not safe in the streets of their own hometown after dark. The injustice of it angered him.

Nero had contested the wish of The Order of The Sword to install a curfew, but they had – of course - ignored him. Not that he could blame them. The officials were doing what they felt they had to do to keep the citizens safe. Yet, he still cursed them for cowards. Hiding behind politics and refusing to approach the threat head-on. Even if they didn't know what the threat was, the failure to take a stand showed weakness.

As of yet the creature had remained unseen. The demon struck under the cover of darkness, killing its victims, and vanishing like smoke. The bodies of the murdered were left to lay at the base of the large fountain outside the church. Always in that same spot. Like a morbid calling card of sorts. The killer was a master of stealth and speed. And it was cunning. That made for a dangerous combination. It was unlike any devil any in Fortuna had encountered.

Many believed the sudden escalation in reported disappearances were related to the new foe. Since its arrival, four of the city's inhabitants had went missing. What was so strange is that none of the runaways happened on the same night of a siege. Some argued that the creature was carrying off the young people and killing them in solitude for some reason, hoping that the bodies may someday be found as closure for the families of the maybe victims. Others believed the demon had eaten the missing whole, bones and all. Everyone agreed that the lost had no hope of ever being found.

Nero was determined. Determined to find what it was that had put his, Kyrie's and the rest of Fortuna's lives in danger. He was able to convince Balwin – the new captain of the Holy Knights that had replaced Credo – to send a small task force to investigate. That had been two weeks ago. No one had heard anything since. It was silently conceded that the mission was folly and the fallen were mourned.

Then they got the news. A survivor was found. Falor, the commanding officer of the party, had returned to Fortuna.

Nero was on patrol when he'd gotten the message. He was insistent on being present for the interrogation. He quickened his pace as the renovated headquarters building came into view. His eyes barely grazed the too familiar structure as he hurriedly entered the main door and made his way to the conference room.

Not much had changed in the last year. After the defeat of the false savior, people had carried on for a while in confusion and misguidance. Then things began to calm, and life had went on. But nothing had really changed. It had only adapted. The devout sill worshiped Sparda, as it was He (through His Son) who had saved them. Nero got very little credit for his part in the affair. And that was fine with the youth. He disliked the attention.

Nero opened the door to the large room and stepped in avoiding the gazes of the other members of The Order as he went to stand in the corner by himself. The meeting had already started and Balwin shot him a quick glare for the interruption before looking back at Falor. The other three knights shook their heads in disapproval.

"Continue," the captain ordered in a voice not lacking kindness.

"There were five of them," Falor said. His tone sounded steady and even, displaying his bravery under trauma. Yet his complexion was pale, and his eyes had none of their usual luster. "Four females and one male. They looked human. One of the young women favored Belina's daughter. She went missing last week. We assumed they were all runaways."

Nero snorted from his place in the corner. Balwin shot him a warning look. That was all he would give before having the youth escorted out of the room. It was no secret that he disliked the boy's insolent attitude. Yet he held his tongue in most cases for no other reason than Nero was one of the best warriors under his command. Some arrogance could be acceptable, but both superior and subordinate knew where to draw the line. Nero crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"You were saying," the captain said to Falor.

"We asked them to disburse. One of them – a blonde I did not recognize – declined. She said she was under orders to search Fortuna and recruit some of its population."

"Under orders from whom?" Balwin asked.

Falor looked at him. "The Master," he said. "That was the answer she gave."

Nero glanced at Falor. "What are they looking for?"

Balwin sighed and stood to face the youth. "I'm the one who's conducting this interview, Nero."

Nero dropped his gaze. He knew he was pushing and that Balwin's patience was wearing thin with him. The authoritative tone the captain had taken was his third strike. He was lucky to still be in the room so now would be a good time to back off.

"Sorry, sir," he said, but not without just a hint of disrespect. "Thought it might be important."

Balwin slowly nodded. "You may answer Nero's question, Falor."

Falor turned to Nero. His eyes studied the young man intently, lingering momentary on the exposed right arm. The demonic claw flexed and Falor met Nero's eye. A slight smile played at the man's lips.

"She didn't say."

Nero kept his disbelief to himself. He wasn't on the friendliest of terms with any of the Order's knights, but the way Falor was watching went beyond mere incivility. And at that moment, Nero didn't trust him at all.

"Is that when they attacked?" Balwin inquired.

"Yes," Falor replied. He continued to stare Nero.

"With what weapons?"

Falor finally pulled his eyes away from the youngest knight. "The only weapon a vampire needs," he answered. "Their teeth."

Nero knew the attack was coming before it happened, but he still wasn't fast enough to save one of the guards. Falor ripped out the man's throat so quickly no one knew what was happening. A fine crimson spray arched from the guy's vein and splattered the oak table. The newly created vampire that had once been a member of The Order of The Sword put his mouth to the wound and began to drink.

Nero drew Red Queen, revved the fuel injection, and charged. The sword penetrated Falor's chest, the blade driven with such force that only the motor and the hilt were all that protruded from the man's ribs.

Falor glared at Nero with red eyes. "Filthy demon!" he growled.

His fist collided with the boy's jaw and sent him backwards across the room. Nero stood, then ducked as his own sword was thrown at him. Red Queen buried itself into the wall where Nero's head had been seconds earlier. He reached for the weapon but was forced to dodge an advance from Falor.

Nero jumped back and watched the vampire. Falor glared at him displaying long, pointed incisors. Nero glared back. He felt his devil bringer throbbing, aching to unleash its hidden power. He suppressed it, not willing to endanger the lives of the other members of The Order trapped in the room.

Falor crouched and prepared to charge the young man. Nero dove out of the way and quickly made a move toward Red Queen. The vampire spun with unmatched speed at the same time Nero was bringing up his sword. It was purely by accident that the blade struck a fatal blow. As Nero swung outward to defend himself, Red Queen neatly sliced the advancing vampires head in a diagonal line from jaw to scalp. Falor fell. The severed part of his head fell with him, spinning for a moment like a morbid top before resting on the tile floor.

Nero stood at the ready for a few seconds. He relaxed upon realizing that Falor wasn't going to recover from this wound. He looked about the room. The guards were gazing at him with a mixture of awe and residual fear. The boy looked away from the unwanted stares of the others and replaced his sword in its sheath. He turned and quietly made his way to the door. The door opened with a soft groan and Nero paused. He gave the captain a considerate glance and spoke in a tone lacking all emotion.

"Now we know how to kill 'em."

Balwin regained his composure like a man suddenly remembering he was in charge of his own actions. He nodded once to Nero and dismissed the youth with a wave of his hand. As the door shut Nero heard him giving orders to have someone clean up the mess and call a meeting with the authorities of all the surrounding towns.


	2. Chapter 2

Nero approached the door to Balwin's office with an irritated sigh. He hated meetings. He especially hated meetings where the sole purpose was to criticize his actions. He was only ever called to the captain's office to be lectured and always for the same reasons; insubordination and reckless behavior. Balwin had threatened on several occasions to suspend Nero, but only once had he followed through with the warning. And that one time had been enough to make Nero realized how much The Order meant to him. It was all he knew – all he had ever known. Despite the fact that he didn't always agree with his compatriots, he would stand with them just for the sake of keeping his home and his beloved Kyrie safe. Granted, the youth was still uncooperative at times, but he never pushed it far enough to excuse suspension after that one time.

Nero knocked on the door but didn't wait for an invitation to enter. He paused as he stepped into the office, his annoyed countenance becoming one of curiosity when he noticed the attendance of another person sitting across from Balwin. The woman watched him from behind dark glasses as Nero shut the door and glanced at the captain.

"What's this about?" he asked in a softer tone than he had initially planned to use.

Balwin gestured to an empty chair next to the stranger and Nero sat down. He studied her and was surprised to note the presence of a rocket launcher leaned against her chair along with the outline of four guns placed about her person.

"Nero, this is Lady," the captain said.

The woman nodded at him and he gave her a half grin.

"She's a demon hunter," Balwin continued. "And a friend of Dante's."

Nero repeated the name. He looked at Lady. "You actually work with that jackass?"

She smiled at him. "Not exactly," she corrected. "Dante and I are more like competitors."

"In any case," Balwin spoke, "Lady comes highly recommended. When I asked Dante to take the job of helping The Order with our...infestation, he declined and suggested I offer the case to Lady."

Nero let out an exasperated huff. He was bordering between being halfway pissed at the Son of Sparda for not wanting to help and almost glad that he hadn't. "We don't need his help anyhow," he told the captain. "I can take care of the vampires myself."

Lady chuckled and he sneered at her. "Sorry," she said upon noticing his look. "You seem so sure about your ability to exterminate a species you really know nothing about."

"I know enough," Nero retorted.

After the incident with Falor, Nero had attempted to learn all he could about vampires. However, he could find almost nothing about them in the history books housed at Fortuna Castle. There was an almost endless supply of demon lore and stories about the Legendary Dark Knight, but concerning vampires, he could find next to nothing. The majority of what the text held were based on false information that was of no use at all.

Lady shrugged. "Anyone can know how to kill them, but what would really help is if we knew what they are planning. In case you haven't noticed, there's been a drastic increase in vampirism within the last few months. Not just around Fortuna either. My contacts tell me that other cities are being attacked as well, though not as frequently. The only reason Dante turned down this job is because he's currently investigating the menace and trying to find its source."

Nero sat back in his seat and peered at Lady. Her statement was partially true. Anyone can _know_ how to kill a vampire, but not just anyone can kill a vampire. As of yet, he was the only one in The Order who had managed to successfully destroy one. Though others had tried, most of them had lost their lives in the fight. The remaining had simply failed but survived only because the blood sucker had retreated. Nero wasn't sure if it was luck or something else that helped him win his battles, but he was thankful for whatever it was. In the three weeks since he'd killed Falor, the youth had added another four to his list of victims.

"How many vampires have you killed?" he asked.

"None yet," she said. "But don't think I won't be able to when I get the chance."

He scoffed at her. "Yeah, well, good luck with that."

The boy started to get up but Balwin held out a hand to halt him. "There's one more item we need to discuss."

Nero rested back into the seat and prepared himself for a lecture.

"Dante has requested your presence at his office."

As unexpected as the words were, it took a minute for Nero to absorb them. When he did, he let out a wry laugh. "Tell him I'm busy," he said.

Balwin's gaze remained unchanged. His brown eyes locked on Nero's blue ones with unwavering and unamused authority.

"You already told him I'd go," Nero stated in disbelief and irritation.

His feelings toward the demon hunter were mixed. He respected the man for the part he had played in the defeat of Sanctus, but he couldn't say that he really liked Dante. The guy was arrogant, sarcastic, and basically a pain in the ass to be around. Nero wasn't pleased with the idea of seeing him again, but – under other circumstances – he might have considered going. However, with things the way they were now, he was loath to leave Fortuna.

"You might as well call him back and tell him I’m not coming."

"You don't have a choice, Nero," the captain said.

"The hell I don't. You can't order me to go."

Balwin sighed and looked away. "I can expel you from The Order if you refuse."

Nero glowered at him. "On what grounds?" he asked between clinched teeth.

"Insubordination, interference with and interrogation -"

"Falor's interrogation?" Nero interrupted. "He was a vampire. And _I'm_ the one who killed him!"

"- the execution of Belina's daughter, Terrah -"

Nero's mind reeled. Terrah's death had been hard for him. Almost as hard as it was for her family. He had known her all his life, had grown up with her, went to mass with her, watched her sing. She had been one of Kyrie's friends. But Nero had been forced to kill her. If he hadn't, she would have killed him.

"She was a vampire!" he growled.

"- and possession of demonic powers."

The youth started at the last sentence. He looked down at his right hand. After what had happened a year ago, he refused to hide his devil arm. It was a part of him. Until now, it had been accepted by the other knights as a useful weapon. Not unlike their issued swords.

Balwin watched him with a saddened expression. Nero didn't understand how the captain could do this if he clearly wasn't happy about it.

"Do what you have to," he told the other man. "I'm not leaving Fortuna willingly."

"I don't want to have to exile you, Nero."

Nero stared at his captain. It didn't bother him to face punishment if it was justified. But what Balwin was doing was unfair. He was pressuring Nero into doing something he really didn't want to do for no other reason than it was a request from the Great Sparda's son. That kind of groveling pissed Nero off.

"That's the only way you'll get me to leave."

Balwin said nothing so Nero stood up and headed for the exit.

"Nice meetin' you, Lady," he said.

"You, too," she called as he let the door slam after him.


	3. Chapter 3

The vivid hues of pink and lavender that streaked the evening sky reflected onto the placid surface of the water in perfect symmetry. The immaculate reflection made it difficult to distinguish where the heavens ended and the ocean began.

Nero sat on a crate at the end of the pier facing the horizon. His elbows were propped on his knees, Blue Rose held in a loose grip by his left hand as he stared at the natural beauty. He hadn't seen any point in finishing his daily responsibilities to The Order if he was just going to be suspended anyhow. He had wondered around aimlessly for a while after leaving Headquarters, his feet eventually carrying him to the docks. It was deserted and served as the ideal location for fulfilling his desire for solitude.

Though he was the only living being at the waterfront, Nero was not alone. He knew this as he heard the soft footfalls of the vampire grow closer and stop within close proximity behind him. A light oceanic breeze carried to him an oddly familiar scent. One he had come to refer to as undead perfume. A sweet floral fragrance mixed with the undeniable stench of a living corpse. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, but he had learned not to trust his senses when it came to vampires.

"You come to kill me?" he asked without turning.

"That was the plan," replied a sweet feminine voice.

Nero tightened his grip on the gun. "You really think you can?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "You are quite dangerous."

He emitted a short, dry laugh and turned to grin at her corrosively. She was young, blonde, and attractive. Not from Fortuna or any of the surrounding towns. "I like it that you blood suckers are afraid of me."

Her brow wrinkled and the corners of her lips turned down at the derogatory term he had used to describe her race. "Why would I fear a demon?" she asked.

"I'm not a demon."

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "You smell like one," she said.

Nero brought Blue Rose up over his shoulder to point at the bridge of her nose. His eyes searched hers. She made no move to attack.

"If you're not scared, why are you just standing there?"

The vampire crossed her arms and let her eyes wonder to the setting sun. The calmness of her features made her look not at all dangerous. Yet, Nero knew better than to lower his guard. He could sense the monster lurking just below the benevolent exterior.

"I don't think Master wants you dead yet," she told him. "He was quite interested to discover the existence of another descendant of Sparda. I think he has plans for you."

Nero huffed. He didn't believe all that rubbish about him being of the Sparda bloodline. That had been a desperate claim made by Sanctus and Sanctus was a liar.

A few years ago, Nero had managed to discover the identity of his mother. It wasn't hard. Fortuna is a small town and birth records are available in the public database. It was a simple matter of sifting through the hundreds within two years of his guessed birthday and picking out those that had no legitimate claim. The most promising was that of Jane Smith – a false name, of course – that had given birth to a son and died a few days after.

Nero had never doubted the rumors that his mother was a prostitute. She could not have been an upstanding citizen to have used an alias on her medical record. But nor was she of the Sparda legacy. The Legendary Dark Knight had sired sons. One of which was Dante. A man Nero would never believe was his father. Not just because he disliked the demon hunter, but also because Dante – even with all his faults – didn't seem like the type of guy to abandon his own child. Of the other son of Sparda, Dante's brother – about who Nero only knew that he had once owned Yamato – the youth doubted just as much.

He could rationalize it any way he chose, but in the end Nero had to admit that he just didn't care who his father was. He had had a father. Not a biological one, but one who had raised him and cared for him. Blood meant little where family was concerned.

"You wanna clue me in on some of these plans?" he asked the blonde blood sucker.

She grinned at him secretively. "You know I won't do that."

He nodded, expecting her answer. "Yeah. It was worth a shot."

The girl shifted her weight and her gaze turned serious. "But I will tell you this; if you continue to slaughter my children, I'm going to be forced to retaliate."

Nero smirked at her. He had no intention of sparing any of the abominations that he came in contact with. Not even the one he was speaking to now.

"Though you may have no qualms about putting your own life on the line," she continued, "I'm sure you would be devastated if anything were to happen to that sweet little girlfriend of yours."

In an instant Nero was on his feet. Blue Rose's barrels were pressed against the vampire’s forehead in a silent threat. The girl watched him with a flicker of fear in her hazel eyes as he sneered at her.

"You stay the hell away from Kyrie!"

She let her expression soften. "Kyrie," she said and smiled. "That's a pretty name."

With the distinct impression that something had gone horribly wrong, Nero pulled the trigger of his gun but was a second too late in doing so. With a quick twirl of blonde locks, the vampire disappeared back in the direction she had come, and Nero was left standing on the pier, Blue Rose aimed into thin air.

Slowly Nero lowered the barrel to point at his boots. The threat of expulsion no longer bothered him and suddenly leaving didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Balwin had used superiority to try to convince Nero to leave of his own accord because it just wouldn't be right for a commanding officer of The Order of The Sword to tell his subordinate that to stay would be to risk losing the only thing he truly cared about. Nero had become a target of the vampire's wrath. It should have been common knowledge that the many unsuccessful attempts to end the life of the young knight would eventually lead to other forms of revenge. Balwin, being the excellent strategist that he was, must have guessed this.

Nero cursed himself for a fool for not seeing this coming. He could finally understand the expression of pity on the captain's face during their earlier exchange, though he had been too angry then to see any logic in the argument but his own.

He knew there was no hope of convincing Kyrie to leave Fortuna. It was her home and her people. It wasn't the same for Nero. He had always been an outcast. Besides, if Dante was investigating the vampires as Lady claimed, it might be just as dangerous there as it was here. Maybe even more so.

"Dammit!"

Nero hated the thought of leaving. Of not being around to protect Kyrie. But if he was facing exile, he might as well just go. At least if he left by choice, he could take his dignity with him.

The twinkle of the first star was overhead as Nero began the walk back home. He took his time, delaying the inevitable explanation to Kyrie due his decision. He dreaded saying goodbye. He also dreaded calling Dante. He honestly didn't know which one would be more painful.


	4. Chapter 4

Nero stood in the doorway connecting the living room to the bedroom. He held his duffel bag in his right hand and Red Queen in his left. He looked around saying a silent goodbye to his home before his eyes rested on the form of Kyrie. She was staring out the front window with her hands folded in front of her. Though her face was hidden from him by her hair he knew she was crying. She often wept when she looked out onto the empty street and the wilting daisies that she tended every spring.

Today, however, Kyrie had another reason to mourn. As if the fate of her home and the lack of care to her precious flowers were not enough, today Nero was leaving. She always accepted his absence when he was called away on missions with only heartfelt farewells and expressions of longing, but today more was needed. The possibility of him never coming home this time was too real to be pushed aside.

Nero let Kyrie's image fill his mind, memorizing everything about her. She was so beautiful in the light cotton sundress that clung to the curves only he had ever seen unclothed and he never wanted to forget the way she looked.

Placing his sword in its sheath, Nero went to his girlfriend. Kyrie hurriedly wiped her face with the back of her hands and looked at him. The sadness in her eyes melted into a look of adoration. Nero didn't understand why she didn't let him see her tears, but she never did. Maybe she thought it would be easier for him if she didn't show how much she was hurting. And right now, it was. Nero knew if he saw her cry his own resolve would crumble, and he wouldn't be able to take two steps out the door without turning back and refusing to leave. He admired Kyrie's courage.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he told her.

Kyrie nodded and rested her head on Nero's shoulder. He brushed a lock of ginger hair behind her ear and put his lips to her forehead. The lilac scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils and calmed his sorrow.

He wanted to take Kyrie with him. He wanted her to want to go with him. When Nero had called Dante the night before, he had told the hunter that he would only come to Devil May Cry if Kyrie was allowed to accompany him. Dante had surprisingly agreed with little coaxing, but Kyrie had refused the invitation. She said she wouldn't feel comfortable in a strange place and that she had responsibilities to the orphanage that she just couldn't shirk. Nero didn't know it, but the feeling of being needed and staying busy is what helped Kyrie cope with the devastation around her.

Nero had expected her reply, but he had hoped that putting Kyrie on the spot the way he had would stun her into agreeing. Yet she had remained stubborn, therefore he was force to go alone.

"Promise me you'll be safe," Kyrie whispered.

"I promise," he replied. "Besides, if anything happens, Dante'll have my back."

Nero knew that would set her mind at ease. Like everyone else in Fortuna, Kyrie had great faith in the son of Sparda's abilities. Yet Nero doubted the hunter's abilities were any better than his own. He had, after all, once bested the man in a fight. Even if Dante had been holding back, the victory still counted.

"I love you, Nero."

"I love you, too, Kyrie."

The words sounded insufficient to describe the way Nero truly felt, but he knew no others. The language of love was not one that used phrases. Nor was it one that Nero was overly proficient in. But he did his best to show Kyrie how much he cared for her. And if it really was the thought that counted, he guessed he was doing a decent job.

As parting would get no easier the longer he put it off, Nero released Kyrie and headed for the door. Before pulling it to behind him, he paused and looked back at her with a soft grin.

"Wait for me."

Kyrie smiled. "I'll wait."

As he exited the apartment building, leaving his possessions and his heart behind, Nero noticed Lady leaning against the pale brown bricks with her trusty rocket launcher by her side.

"You here to say bye?" he asked, pausing in front of her.

"Not really," she answered. Her dark sunglasses raised to his face. "I was hoping if I stayed close to you I might get to see a little action."

Nero laughed as she slung the strap of the enormous firearm over her shoulder. He marveled at how she was able to carry something that was almost as big as herself with such ease.

"Mind if I walk you to the dock?"

"Nope," he said. "Maybe you'll get lucky and the blood suckers'll have a going away party planed for me."

"One can only hope," Lady stated. "No offense, but Fortuna is boring."

"Yeah, it is," Nero agreed with a smile.

They began a relaxed pace. The sun shone brightly overhead, and it would have been a lovely day if not for the eerie quiet of the city. The footsteps of the two on the sidewalk and the clinking of Lady's personal armory were the only sounds to be heard.

After a brief, awkward silence, Lady spoke. "I feel like there's an elephant in the room, so I'm just going to ask; what's with the arm?"

Nero had grown used to the constant stares and questions about his demonic arm and it no longer bothered him to explain. He held the extremity out and turned it over so that Lady could get a good look at it.

"About a year ago, the city was attacked by demons. I was injured during the fight and when my arm started to heal it looked like this."

Lady frowned. "That's odd. I've never heard of a metamorphosis lasting that long. Can't you switch it back?"

Nero looked at her and it was his turn to frown. "I don't know how that would even be possible. I didn't make my arm like this."

"I'm no expert on these things," Lady told him. "But it might just be because it's localized. When Dante changes it's a complete transformation, and he can turn it off."

At her words Nero stopped walking and stared at her. Lady halted and turned to him. "You mean Dante has something like this?"

"Well, no," she said. "Not exactly. Like I said, his transformation is complete. It takes over his entire body. You would have to see it to know what I mean. And I don't guess you've ever seen Dante in his devil form."

Nero shook his head. He had seen Dante get pinned to a statue with his own sword and walk away like nothing had happened, because he had been the one who had pinned Dante to a statue with his own sword. Yet the man's appearance had never changed. He was curious about the devil form and how Dante was able to control it. He wasn't sure Lady was the right person to ask such questions to, but as she had obviously seen the demon hunter in such a state, she could at least tell him what it looked like.

"Does it look like this?" he asked, gesturing to his arm.

Lady tilted her head to the side. "Sort of. That's why I asked if you could control it."

Nero nodded and pushed the rest of his inquiries to the back of his mind. The first chance he got, he was going to talk to Dante about this. Even if he had to kick the guy's ass to get some answers. Which – knowing Dante – was a possibility.

They continued walking and Nero decided to bring up another topic he was curious about.

"How long have you known Dante?" he asked Lady.

"A while," Lady said vaguely. "To give you an answer in years would be to reveal my age and you don't really expect me to do that, do you?"

Nero grinned. "So, a while then. Did you know his brother?"

Lady let her smile fade. "I met him. Why?"

Nero tried to play it off as disinterested curiosity. "I've just always heard that Sparda had two sons, but Dante is the only one I know anything about. I wondered what the other one was like."

Lady watched him and he cursed her glasses. Though it may have been worse if he was forced to look into her eyes, Nero disliked not being able to gauge her reaction. He was glad when she turned her face forward again.

"Dante and Vergil were twins," she said. "But their likeness was only physical. You may think Dante is a jackass, and I'm inclined to agree with that most of the time. However, when he's not being a smartass or a terrible flirt, he's actually a very compassionate person. Did you know he refuses to ever hurt a human? Half the jobs he takes he never gets paid for. And even though he'll whine about it endlessly, the money isn't really what's important to Dante. What matters most to him is protecting humanity, even if they're not all human."

Lady gave Nero a moment to accept this new side to the demon hunter. He did so with the feeling that is somehow made sense. Nero couldn't simply overlook that fact that Dante had given him Yamato. A very powerful sword that had meant a lot to the older man. Not to mention Dante risked his life to help Nero when Nero thought all hope was lost. Those are not the actions of someone who only cares about oneself.

"What about Vergil?" Nero spoke the other twin's name with a slight grimace. As if it were a name he had no right to speak. He wasn't sure why he did this.

"He was selfish and cold-hearted," Lady said.

They were approaching the dock and Nero stopped, Lady did likewise beside him. The harbor was a shadow of its former self as only a skeleton crew was assembled for marine actives. The musical waves and the smell of salt water always gave Nero a strange sense of nostalgia.

"How'd he die?" he asked.

Lady reached up and removed her glasses. She glanced at Nero and he faltered as he noticed her mismatched eyes. He'd never met anyone with heterochromia before and he tried not to stare at her.

"He was defeated by Dante," she told him. Her blue and brown gaze searched his. Nero focused on the choppy black strands of Lady's bangs and she smiled sadly. "It's best if we keep this conversation between us. It's not good for Dante to remember Vergil."

"Yeah," he agreed. Nero couldn't imagine what it must be like to live with the guilt of knowing you killed your own brother. He wondered if the remorse was worse since they had been twins.

Lady put her glasses back on and turned her face to the pier. "By the way, tell Dante that he owes me."

Nero nodded and said he would. He started to ask Lady a favor of his own, but she noticed his expression and saved him the trouble of speaking.

"Don't worry. I'll watch after your girlfriend."

"Thanks, Lady," he said with a smile. "Your alias suits you."

She laughed. "You think so? Dante suggested it."

Nero chuckled. "That sounds about right. See you when I get back."

"Have fun, Nero," Lady called as she headed back to town.

Nero boarded the ship thinking this visit was going to be anything but fun.


	5. Chapter 5

Eighty-two minutes. That's how long Nero waited at the train station for Dante to show up. It was longer than his patience could stand and longer than the devil hunter deserved. In the end, Nero had been forced to ask three people for directions to the oddly named business before finally receiving a vague description of Devil May Cry's location.

So, it was as he pushed through the masses of people within the city that Nero's eyes spotted the irritatingly familiar blonde hair of that blood sucker wench that had threatened Kyrie a block ahead of him. At first, he thought it was just his imagination. But when her lips curled in that sly smile, there was no doubt that it was her. Nero quickened his pace, pushing by the form of an unhappy man who issued a verbal assault at Nero's back. The blonde vanished as he got closer. Nero looked around noticing an abandoned alley to his right and cautiously turned down it while drawing Blue Rose.

The vampire stood at a dead end and Nero grinned.

"Looks like you're trapped, blood sucker," he said, fixing his gun's barrels on her forehead.

She smiled at him. "Am I?"

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Nero spun toward the mouth of the alley, dropping his duffel bag to the ground. The vampire that had closed in behind him quickly relieved him of his weapon. In a second he felt a grip like iron twist his left arm and pin it behind him so that he was unable to go for his sword. Nero was pushed to his knees and he felt the unquestionable beckon of the power within his demonic arm. He suppressed the urge, wanting only to use it as a last resort.

"Looks like you're the one who's trapped, slayer," the new arrival chided in a sweet voice. Nero stared up at her. Her young features were set in a lethal expression of playfulness. Dark hair framed her oval face, as she gazed at him with striking green eyes.

Nero forced a sneer and felt the calling of Yamato grow stronger. "Don't bet on it," he retorted.

The blonde gripped a fistful of his white hair and Nero pursed his lips to keep from crying out. "Kill him, Becca," she ordered.

The green eyes of the vampire before Nero lost some of their amusement and flashed with regret at having been reprimanded for her games. Then with a last smile, she trailed a finger down Nero's face from temple to jaw. His bravado faltered. Her touch burned his skin, but not in an unpleasant way. He continued to stare at her, but more with fascination than hatred. His mind suddenly registered her scent as intoxicating and he drunkenly wondered what it would feel like to kiss her.

Nero jerked at the sound of a gunshot and came back to reality with a crash. The hands holding him let go. Becca stood stunned with a bullet sized hole in the center of her forehead. Nero didn't have time to react as his upturned face was splattered with dark, partially congealed blood. Becca's head detached from her body and – by some force for which Nero was thankful – fell to the left with a soft thud.

As her body fell to the opposite side as her head, Nero's eyes met with the familiar red coat of Dante. He forced himself to gain control of his thoughts as the demon hunter took steady strides closer and eyed the boy while returning his massive sword to its sheath and his dark gun to its holster.

"Sorry to crash the party, kid," Dante said with a lopsided grin, "but I thought you could use a hand."

Nero got to his feet and looked around for Blue Rose while trying to hide his relief at the older man's arrival. He walked by Dante and bent to retrieve his gun with his left hand and his luggage with his right.

"That supposed to be a joke?" he asked unamused.

Dante laughed. "Now that you mention it, it was kinda funny."

Nero shook his head. He looked around the alley and suddenly realized that there was only one corpse present.

"Where's the other one?" he asked the hunter.

Dante jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the direction behind him. "The blonde took off."

Nero waited. When the other man didn't move, he asked, "Aren't you goin' after her?"

Dante shook his head, his platinum hair played at his eyebrows. "Nah. I'm not really in the mood for a chase right now."

Nero shot him a glare. It was one thing to make jokes about a dangerous situation, but to take a serious threat so lightly was stupidity. He huffed and started an irritated pace out of the alley.

"Where are you going?" Dante called after him.

"To look for the blood sucker," Nero called behind him.

"Might as well forget it, kid." The youth stopped and turned back to look at Dante. "She's long gone, and I doubt she'll be back."

Letting some of his rage dissipate Nero stared at him. "How do you know?"

"Leeches are territorial," the hunter responded. "And this isn't her territory."

Nero gave a dry laugh. "You think they're scared of you," he observed.

Dante gave him a sadistic smile. "I sure as hell hope so."

The older man moved by Nero and turned right to rejoin the crowds of civilians milling about the city. The young man followed hoping that the devil hunter knew what he was doing. He was still irritated at being stood up, but thankful for the assistance.

"I thought you were meeting me at the station," he stated.

"Guess it slipped my mind," Dante told him.

Nero grinned. "Maybe you're getting old."

Dante chuckled. He gave the boy a sideways glance. "It's not the years, it's the mileage."

They continued in silence for a few blocks, and Nero looked ahead to see the pink neon sign that read the name of Dante's office. The hunter led Nero through the door and the boy looked around struggling to pick an adjective that suited the disastrous interior. Disgusting was the first one that came to his mind. Nero was fairly certain that the room had never seen a mop, much less a damp one.

Dante began to point out rooms and go over the rules he expected Nero to follow during his stay at Devil May Cry. "Bathroom's there. Fridge is over here, but it hasn’t got anything in it. The bar is stocked if you like whiskey. If not, you're outta luck. Pick a couch, cause that's where you're sleeping'. Don't go in the basement. And upstairs is off limits for everyone except babes."

Nero gave a slight shake of his head. "Trust me. I don't wanna see your bedroom. Down here is bad enough." He glanced at the overflowing trash bins. "Ever thought about hiring a maid?"

Dante hung his sword on the wall and lay his twin pistols on the desk. He sat in the high-backed chair facing Nero and reclined back, lifting the front legs off the floor, and resting his feet on the desk. "Can't find one that'll work for free," he said.

Nero went to the couch closest to the jukebox and kicked a wadded up brown paper bag out of the way. He dropped his luggage on the floor and sat down. He glanced around while Dante leafed through a magazine.

"You wanna tell me why you were so hell bent on getting me here?" he spoke in the silence.

Dante didn't look up. "Wasn't my idea."

Nero narrowed his eyes at the hunter. "Care to explain?"

The other man finally turned his eyes to Nero seeming confused by the misunderstanding. "It was just a suggestion," he said. "Your boss sounded kinda worried about you when he called. From what he said, I knew the leeches wouldn't quit until you were dead. That would cause me more problems than it's worth, so I figured you'd be safer here. Call me selfish, but I like to protect my investment."

Nero looked down at his devil arm wherein resided the potent form of Yamato and finally understood. It had never been about keeping him safe. Not to Dante. The youth accepted this with only a little disappointment.

"You think the vampires know I got Yamato?"

Dante shook his head. "Not unless you told 'em."

Nero shook his head in response. The only ones who knew that Dante had entrusted his brother's weapon to the young knight were himself, the hunter and Kyrie. Nero had been cautious with the sword. He never used it unless he had to, and he rarely had to. His skills with Red Queen and Blue Rose were enough to handle most demons.

"Good," Dante stated. "But after what happened the last time that sword was in the hands of The Order, I'm not taking the chance on an encore. That's why I invited you. Well, that and I figured you could give me hand around here."

Dante gave him a small grin and Nero shook his head. "The hand jokes are lame."

The hunter chuckled. "I'm amused."

Nero thought it was time to turn the conversation back to more serious matters. "Have you been able to find out anything about the vampires? And what they're up to?"

The elder man lowered his legs and let the chair fall back to the floor. "Not really, kid. Those two today are the first I've seen in a while. They don't come around here."

"Cause this is your turf," Nero stated.

Dante shrugged. "I took care of the ones that lurked around here a long time ago. Not sure if you know this, but these blood suckers aren’t demonic. I wish they were. It'd make 'em easier to deal with. But this kind, they've been around for a long time and they're...tougher. Not to mention they're manipulative and sneaky. Humans ain't got a chance against 'em. But they've always been scarce." He tossed the magazine onto the desk. "As to what they're planning', I haven’t got a clue. But I'd really like to know why they got the sudden urge to reproduce."

"So would I," Nero sympathized. "But they don't seem too interested in tellin' us."

"We wouldn’t be able to trust anything they say anyhow."

Dante was staring ahead at nothing and Nero wondered how much experience the man really had with vampires. He didn't seem as confident in his ability to eliminate the undead as he was in his skill with exterminating demons. Nero thought it odd to see the flippant Son of Sparda so morose.

"Word of advice, kid," Dante said turning his somber gaze to Nero. "Never let one of those leeches touch you."

Nero nodded remembering Becca's caress and glad that Dante hadn't witnessed it.

The hunter stood up and took his broadsword from its rack, muttering. "It’s not right."

The youth watched Dante gather his weapons and prepare to leave wondering if he should be doing the same. The half demon stopped at the door and looked back at Nero as if remembering that the boy was there.

"I got something I gotta do," he said. "I'm not sure when I'll be back. It's best if you just hang out here tonight. If you get hungry, you can order a pizza – the number's by the phone. Tell 'em to put it on my tab and I'll pay when I get the money."

"Okay," Nero said quietly. The youth had a feeling that there was something the hunter wasn't telling him. But he thought it best to keep his misgivings to himself for the present. Dante's voice and body language said he wanted to be alone so Nero would respect that.

"Don't let anyone in and don't answer the phone," Dante further issued.

"What if Lady calls?" Nero asked.

Dante shrugged. "She'll call back."

"She said you owe her."

The hunter froze as he was about to pull the door closed behind him. He looked back at Nero with obvious annoyance "So that's the thanks I get for givin' her a nice, easy job. Ha! Women!"

Nero smiled as the door slammed and speculated what the payback would involve.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of loud rock and roll music filled Devil May Cry but was currently being ignored by both of the silver haired men who occupied the building as each was intent on their own doings. Sitting in silence on opposite sides of the room, Nero flipped through one of the outdated gun magazines while Dante delicately disassembled his firearms for cleaning. Nero found it ironic that a person who thought so little of tidiness gave such care to his weapons. However, it made sense, as the maintenance of said weapons was required to ensure that they worked properly when the time came to use them. Timing in battle was crucial. And Dante was the type to take whatever steps necessary to achieve a fair victory.

Nero tossed the magazine aside and gave a loud sigh. He was becoming bored with the avoidance of topics, yet he had made no effort to get any answers. A fact for which he berated himself as there was nothing else to do but talk. He stared at the devil hunter for a long time and decided that he may not get a better opportunity to ask the questions he wanted answers to.

"You think I'm human?" he asked.

Dante laughed, but didn't look up. "What do you think, kid?"

Nero had expected such a reply. Dante had – in so many words – told Nero that he was a demon. Though the youth had not believed it then, he was pretty well convinced at this point that he was not entirely human.

"You think I'm like you," Nero offered.

The older man shrugged but continued his inspection of the dark metal pistol he was tending to. "Sorta."

"Sanctus told me I had the blood of Sparda," Nero reminded him.

Dante glanced up, then back down. "I thought you didn't believe that."

"I didn't," Nero said. "But then Lady said something that made me think he might've been right."

The hunter looked up. His face was expressionless. "Did she?" he muttered.

"She said my arm reminded her of you. Like how you look when you're in your devil form. I told her I've never seen you like that."

Dante gave the boy a humorless grin. "You came close once. But I don't see how me having a demon form surprises you. It's the same as what happened to you when you wanted to keep Yamato."

Nero thought back to his attainment of the sword and his battle with Dante in order to keep it. At that time, he had been so angry that he couldn't really control the rage. It had taken over who he was. Over the last year, he had learned to manage that part of him. Though he still felt it building at times, he struggled not to give in. Dante apparently related Nero's strange power to his own, and – if he was right – the youth was glad he had never experienced the half demon's wrath.

"Why's it different for me, though?" Nero asked him. "Why don't I get a full transformation like you do?"

Dante considered the question. "Maybe it's because you have more human in you than I do," he said at last.

Nero let his mind go over this. If what he had been thinking was true, that would make sense. Yet, the silent theories of his mind did little to ease his curiosity.

"You know what that means?"

Dante lay the shell of Ebony on the desk and stared at Nero. "Looks like you do. If you got something to say, just say it."

"I don't wanna think you're my father," Nero told him.

Dante laughed. "Good. Cause I'm not."

Nero had not expected such a jovial response to his admission, and it threw him off. Of course, he hadn't expected Dante to admit to being his father either. Nero still doubted that was true.

"How can you be sure?" he asked anyway.

Dante looked at him as if the answer should be obvious. "I'm not stupid, kid," he said. "I may not always play by the rules, but I'm careful."

Nero wished he hadn't made that promise to Lady not to bring up Vergil. He knew Dante would offer no information on the subject, even if he thought he knew the answer. Yet, if Nero asked, he doubted that Dante would lie to him. Evade, probably. Lie, no.

He looked down at his demonic arm and wondered if Yamato really belonged to him after all. It would fit with what he was thinking. Yamato had repaired itself at Nero's request. It may have done so just as easily for Dante, as both men carried the power to wield such a powerful weapon. Yet, Dante had entrusted it to Nero. Why? Nero was sure the answer was more complex than a simple matter of trust. Dante hadn't really known he could trust Nero with Yamato the first time he'd let him use it. Nero had a feeling there was a deeper connection. Between he and the Sons of Sparda as well as he and Yamato.

The thoughtful silence was interrupted by the harsh ringing of the phone. Dante picked it up and spoke. "Devil May Cry...Trish! Hey, babe...No kiddin'?..Great. See you when you get here."

Dante hung up and turned his attention back to his guns. Nero watched him.

"Who's Trish?" he asked, deciding he didn't care if he sounded nosy.

"An associate," Dante answered. "She's been helpin' me investigate the vampires."

Nero leaned forward on the couch and pushed the thoughts of his lineage from his mind. His sole purpose for coming to visit Dante was to try and find a way to stop the vampires before they hurt Kyrie or anyone else. He cleared his throat and looked at the devil hunter.

"So, has she got some good news for us?"

Dante grinned at the word 'us'. "She sounded optimistic," he stated. "But don't get your hopes up. None of this is gonna be easy."

"I didn't expect it to be," Nero told him.

He looked up and his eyes fell on Sparda. He studied the sword. "How'd you get that?" he asked. "Did Sparda leave it with you?"

Dante glanced over his shoulder. "Pop's sword?" Nero thought it strange to hear the Legendary Dark Knight referred to as 'Pop'. He had known Sparda was Dante's dad, but it had never really clicked until now. "He left it in the demon realm. I managed to get my hands on it a few years back. Well, maybe more than a few years. I was about your age then."

Nero snickered. "Hard to believe you were ever my age."

Dante gave him a mock sneer. "Don't let the hair fool you. I ain't that old."

"It's not the hair," Nero said, gesturing to his own. "You got crow's feet."

"No I don't!"

Nero laughed to see that he was finally able to get to the elder man. "You probably got a receding hairline, too."

Dante pushed his hair back to prove that he was not even close to going bald. Nero had a strange sense of Deja vu before the hunter let it fall again. "Don't joke about my hair, kid."

"Stop callin' me kid then."

Dante frowned and went back to cleaning his gun. "Fine, _Nero_."

The youth eloquently flipped Dante off the next time he glanced up. The man scoffed and muttered "Punk!" under his breath.

The office door opened, and a blonde dressed in black leather walked in. She sauntered to the desk and sat on the edge, speaking to Dante. "You would not believe the week I've had." Her eyes met Nero's and she smiled. "I see you have company."

"I know you," he said, confused that Dante had called her Trish. "I thought your name was Gloria."

Dante laughed. "You put on a good act there, babe."

"Be nice, Dante," Trish chided. "Nero and I met when I was in that disguise. The only time he's seen me like this is when he was in the clutches of the false savior. I'm surprised he even remembers me."

"How could I forget," Nero stated.

"Spill it," Dante told her. "I need some good news."

Trish turned her attention back to the demon hunter. "Well, you were right about the vampires," she said. "No matter what form I was in, they always knew I wasn't human."

Dante favored her with an I-told-you-so grin. "They gotta be able to pick out the good blood from the bad. Otherwise, they risk getting poisoned. And they don't like that."

Nero looked at him. "Wait, what?"

"Forgot to tell you," the hunter said. "Demon blood is toxic to vampires. So you don't have to worry about them suckin' on you. I mean unless you want 'em to."

Nero stared at him. "Why would I want – never mind. You could have told me that earlier."

"I told you, I forgot."

Nero rolled his eyes and Trish went back to speaking.

"As I was saying, the vampires made it hard for me to stay incognito. But, I still had a fairly easy time tracking them. They smell terrible." She wrinkled her nose at the memory.

Dante and Nero both looked at her in disagreement. "I guess it's different for humans," she said. "Even half humans."

Dante shrugged. "So, what did you find out?"

"Not much," Trish admitted. "I know that their main hang out is in Constantine but didn't hear anything about what they were up to."

"Constantine?" Dante repeated. "Where the hell's that?"

"About an eight-hour train ride east of here," Trish answered.

Nero looked at Dante. "If that's where the blood suckers are, I guess that means that's where we need to go."

"'We'?" the hunter repeated. "You've already got them after you and now you wanna go charging into the middle of their nest?"

"If it means stopping whatever they got planed, then yeah."

Dante chuckled and shook his head. "You sure you can handle it, kid?"

Nero grinned. "I can if you can, old man."

"Alright," the hunter said with a nod. "I'll call the station and see when the next train to Constantine leaves."

"An hour," Trish announced. She smiled at Dante. "I had a feeling you'd want to go."

He laughed at her. "You taggin' along?"

Trish sighed and shook her head. "I've had my fill of vampires for the time being. I'm sure you boys can do this on your own."

Dante looked up at Nero in pleased resignation. "Guess we're goin' to Constantine."

Nero smiled. "Should I pack some holy water and crucifixes?"

The older man scoffed. "This isn't a movie, kid. That crap doesn’t work."

Trish pushed herself off the desk. "I should probably warn you, the humans in Constantine are almost as bad as the blood suckers. Half of them want nothing more than to join the vampires in their noble crusade."

"What about the other half?" Dante asked.

Trish grimaced. "They're just happy to sacrifice themselves for the greater good of their idols."

She turned to leave, and Dante looked up at Nero.

"Sounds like this is gonna be one hell of a party."

Nero gave a dry chuckle of agreement.


	7. Chapter 7

Nero disembarked the train and looked around the station with a cautious gaze. He wrinkled his brow in frustration as he was unable to determine the exact source of the too-familiar smell of flowers and death that hung in the air. The entire city seemed to reek of the abominations. Nero didn't like that. He knew it meant there were probably as many vampires here as there were humans. Thankfully, as of yet, he had seen none.

Flexing his right hand, Nero felt the leather of the glove stretch. He loathed having to hide his demonic arm. But he hadn't disagreed when Dante had suggested covering it up. They needed to draw as little attention to themselves as possible, and a teenager with a demon hand was hard to miss.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked the devil hunter next to him.

Dante surveyed the open outdoor depot with a vacant expression and shrugged. "I don't make plans," he told Nero. "They never go the way you want them to."

Nero scoffed, wondering why this revelation surprised him. "Okay. Then I guess we'll just stand here til the blood suckers notice us."

Dante frowned at him then gave a resigned huff. "Well, while you're doin' that, I'm gonna go get a drink."

The elder man headed off in a confident swagger toward the bar across the street. Nero shook his head and followed. When he had first met Dante, he had assumed the man was a cocky jerk who always knew what he was doing. But after spending time with him, Nero was inclined to believe that luck was the only thing that had kept the hunter alive this long. It was disappointing – and impressive – to discover that Dante often acted without thinking and somehow managed to make situations go in his favor.

Very few of the patrons noticed the white-haired duo as they entered the bar. Most seemed too intent on their own goings on. That it was dark helped. The only light came from a few dim lamps that hung singularly from the ceiling. Nero had to let his eyes adjust to the new darkness. Which was odd because he normally had good night vision. He followed Dante to a booth in the corner and each sat with their back to a wall. He noticed the vague outline of the hunter’s face turn to him.

"Pop quiz," Dante said in a hushed tone that Nero barely made out over the music. "How many vampires are in the room?"

Nero let his eyes wonder without knowing how he would be able to discern the differences between the vampires and the humans. At first glance, they appeared the same. However, after closer inspection, Nero could pick out a few in the mass who carried themselves with more ease than others. He made a mental note of every one of these individuals and turned to Dante.

"Eight," he announced.

Dante frowned at him and searched to crowd. With a light chuckle, he said, "You only counted the females, didn't you?"

Nero cursed to himself. Why had he done that? He knew vampires could be male. Falor had mentioned seeing a male with the group that terrorized Fortuna. Falor himself had been a vampire, and Nero had come face to face with him. Yet, that was the only time he had seem a blood sucker that wasn't female. He casually wondered why that was.

"Fourteen?" he tried after another look around the bar.

Dante gave a nod of approval. "It's a common mistake. They're not going to send the guys after you – unless that's what you're into."

"What do you mean?" Nero asked.

"A vampire’s magic doesn't work as well without some sort of attraction," Dante stated. "They use pheromones to subdue their prey. It works well enough on humans, but we can see through it. To an extent, anyway. We can sense they're not right, but we still fall for the act. The way they smell, how nice they look, how good it feels when they touch you."

Nero's mind automatically went to Becca. He had come close to giving in to her when she had touched him. If Dante hadn't come along when he did, Nero doubted he would have survived much longer. Yet, he was still unwilling to admit his knowledge on the subject, so he pointed out the hunters admittance.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Dante grunted in response. "Don't take it so lightly, kid. If she'd wanted to kill me, I'd probably be dead."

Nero found this an interesting statement and guessed there was story behind it. "Why didn't she wanna kill you?"

The hunter shook his head. "That's not important," he said. "Just be careful, okay."

Nero nodded and let the conversations cease. He felt antsy being stuck in the middle of so many blood suckers. His demonic arm was tingling, as if the blood had been constricted then allowed to flow freely. He was internally aching for a fight.

A waitress that was walking by jumped as Dante easily took hold of her arm. This didn't surprise Nero as it was so dark he doubted she could see the hunter until he got her attention.

"Would you mind getting us a couple beers, babe?"

She relaxed as he released her and squinted at them. "I'm not sure he's old enough to be drinking," she said pointing at Nero.

He was amazed that the waitress could tell he was underage in such poor light. But, so as not to cause a scene, Nero didn't argue with her. "I'm not thirsty."

The girl nodded and left them.

Dante turned to the youth. "What did you give up so easy for? I could have gotten you a beer."

Nero shrugged. "How did you know she wasn't a vampire?"

The hunter waited for the girl to return with his beverage. She did and he gave her a charming smile of thanks in return. After she'd left, he answered Nero.

"I wasn't sure until I grabbed her arm," he said. "She had scars on her wrist. And did you see the fresh marks on her neck?" Nero shook his head. "This place doesn’t just serve liquor."

Nero glanced around in disgust. His mind was unable to grasp the concept of how the humans could justify such actions. Their behavior went beyond masochism and bordered on animalism.

"That's barbaric," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

Dante sighed and slowly smiled. "What do you say we shut this place down?"

Before Nero could respond, there was the loud echo of gunfire and the room was bathed in the hot light of fire. Unseen, Dante had drawn Ebony and fired two shots in quick succession. One hit the overhanging lantern closest to the bar. The other hit a bottle of vodka on a nearby shelf. The sparks ignited the liquid and initiated the busting of other bottles that added to the blaze.

An alarm began to blare and all the humans in the room formed unorganized and panicky lines at the exits. The vampires remained, throwing glares in the direction of the two newcomers who had ruined their fun.

Dante stood and brandished his large broadsword in invitation. The blood suckers didn't hesitate in accepting. Nero quickly jumped to his feet and drew Red Queen, facing off against three of the monsters. He was relieved that he didn't have to worry about their fangs, but the leeches more than made up for that handicap with strength and speed.

Dante was doing well. He had the advantage of duel wielding. Though the bullets he shot into the blood suckers' skulls did not kill them, it stunned them long enough to for the hunter to finish them off with Rebellion.

Nero's combat wasn't going as smoothly. He was able to decapitate one, but the other two closed in, forcing him back against the wall. He cursed and peeled off his glove with his teeth. The demonic claw was glowing and pulsing. The youth gave in to the call and Yamato materialized in his grasp. The vampires stepped back in awe at the new development.

Nero used the distraction as his ally and charged into the fray, swinging his two swords at every vampire he saw. The incredible power he felt from using the katana was liberating. It didn't take him long to dispatch the majority of the vile creatures.

The boy looked up to see Dante engaged in close combat with one of the males, unaware that a female was sneaking dangerously closer from behind.

"Dante!" Nero yelled in warning.

The hunter hurriedly finished with the vampire before him and spun around to face the new threat. The woman paused and backed out of sword range. She smiled at Dante and said his name in an alluring voice.

The hunter froze. The emotion of his countenance rapidly changing from one of fierce determination to one of utter entrancement. Nero cursed and exchanged Red Queen for Blue Rose, silently insulting Dante for not taking the clear opening. The youth fired at the woman's head as she lunged for the older man. Dante broke out of whatever trance he was in and swung his sword at her neck. His aim was perfect, and she fell in a headless heap.

With the last vampire down and an inferno overtaking the bar, Dante glared at Nero.

"Dammit, kid!" he yelled. "Learn when to keep your mouth shut!"

Nero glared back. He hadn't expected a thank you, but the ungrateful behavior that Dante was displaying angered him. He considered a retort, but before he could issue it, the hunter pushed roughly by him and kicked open the doors leading outside.

Nero stomped after him, not willing to let such rudeness go unchecked. He came up behind the man as he stood surveying the town and put a violent hand on his shoulder.

"Hey! I was ju-"

Dante looked at him with blazing indignation. "Later," he hissed, and turned back to the crowds of bystanders.

Nero glanced in that direction and reached over his shoulder to retrieve his sword at the same time Dante brought Rebellion up in front of him. It really shouldn't have been surprising – with all the commotion they had caused in so short a time – to notice the horde of blood suckers that stood before their human companions, protectively sneering at the two men with red eyes and bared fangs.

Nero sighed, thinking that this night really couldn't get any worse as the leeches advanced.


	8. Chapter 8

A harsh silence filled the abandoned cellar as Nero leaned on the wall closest to the door and avoided looking at Dante. Their last fight with the vampires had been harrowing. Countless times they were attacked by the blood sucking abominations. Nero had lost count of how many he'd slain as he swung Yamato in conjunction with Red Queen in some instinctual form of self-defense. Survival had been his only concern.

He had only once glanced at his compatriot during the war. When he had, his gaze was held longer than it should have been. It hadn't been Dante that he had seen, but a demonic impersonation of the devil hunter. A fleeting realization and a passing thought of wonderment were all the youth had time to register before turning his attention back to the very real danger of the vampires.

Nero had been sure they would lose. He and Dante were massively outnumbered. And losing was just an unfortunate eventuality of war. Yet, Nero refused to back down. It was not only his own life he was protecting, but Kyrie's as well. Though she was not with him, she was still in the line of danger. That gave him incentive to fight on.

And so he did. Until he felt the strong hand of Dante on his shoulder. Nero hadn't known it was him at the time. He'd turned, glaring fervidly with his duel swords raised for attack. When his eyes met the familiar blue of the demon hunter's, he relaxed. Looking around, he noticed they were now alone in the empty street. The humans had fled. Not from fear of the vampires, but from terror at the demonic presence of the two strangers. Some of the blood suckers had done likewise, obviously learning that numbers meant nothing compared to will.

Dante had only looked at Nero, an unreadable expression on his face, then walked slowly away. Nero had obediently followed, unsure why he was compelled to do so. So it was that they found the cellar that they now veritably hid in - as much to escape the world as the vampires – and effectively ignored each other.

Nero chuckled in the silence. Not because he was amused, but because the quiet was deafening. He needed something to break it.

Dante caught his eye. The man's face was still a discernible mask of nothingness. "Do you know how close you came to getting me killed back there?"

Nero glared at the disappointment in the others voice. "It was your idea to start that fight," he reminded.

Dante's expression didn't change. "Yeah," he admitted. "But I didn't think you would be stupid enough to yell out my name in front of a leech that didn't know who I was."

Not fully comprehending the statement, Nero latched on to one word vehemently. "Stupid?" he growled. "You think _I'm_ stupid?"

Dante accepted the rebuke and slowly shook his head. "I think what you did was stupid."

Nero gritted his teeth. "One in the same, jackass."

The hunter gave a light chuckle. "You don't even know, do you, kid?"

"Stop callin' me kid!"

"Fine, Nero."

They way Dante said his name made Nero just as angry as the previous title. Dante carried his condescending manner so easily that it was irritating. "Go to hell."

A flicker of amusement in the ice blue eyes the corners of the hunter's lips twitched. "Your identity was never a secret in Fortuna," he said. "That makes me think the leeches never really considered you a threat."

Nero looked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Names have power," Dante told him. "Especially for people like us."

Nero bit back a retort. He wanted to say that he was nothing like Dante, but that would only be an admission born from anger. He knew what Dante meant, therefore he stayed quiet.

"In the underworld," Dante explained, "names are used to force lesser demons into submission. The more powerful devils don't like to do their own dirty work. So they learn the names of the weaker imps and use them to do their bidding. It's sorta like a contract of servitude. Mundus did it all the time. Sparda probably did too."

Nero couldn't picture Sparda ever using such trickery. But then he remembered that the Legendary Dark Knight had once been a great warrior in the demon realm. He wondered what The Order would think if they knew this about their god. The irony was almost amusing.

"And the vampires have that same power," he guessed.

Dante nodded. "It's not nearly as strong, but yeah. And the fact that they never used your name means they underestimated you."

This somewhat pleased the youth to hear. Yet, at the same time, he felt his victories were bittersweet. If the blood suckers had been holding back, he wondered if he would be able to best one that used full force.

"I don't think they'll make that mistake anymore," Nero said. Dante agreed with a satisfied grunt. "You really should have told me that sooner."

"Yeah, I should have,” Dante agreed. “But I honestly thought you already knew."

"Maybe you've just taken it for granted that I know more than I do. You've forgotten to tell me a lot."

Dante looked away. "Sorry, kid – Nero."

"I tried researching them," he excused.

Dante chuckled. “You're not going to find anything about this breed. Not unless you know where to look. Not many people know true history these days. I think all the books that had information about these creatures in 'em were destroyed a long time ago. Me," he said. "I've never been good at studyin'. I learn what I gotta know from hands-on experience."

The elder hunter sighed and began to pace the small space. "But now we've got a problem. They know we're here. Those ones that got away – the first thing they're gonna do is warn all their buddies. Every leech in Constantine is gonna be on red alert now."

Nero silently agreed. Any hope he and Dante had at stealth was gone. And what made it so bad is the fact that they had learned nothing. He didn't regret killing the blood suckers at the bar. That vile place and the memory of what it had stood for turned his stomach. Yet, they should have used more care.

"We gotta figure out who 'The Master' is and go after him," he said.

Dante regarded the youth for a long time. Then Nero realized that Dante didn't know about the conversation between the knight and the blonde leech. He grinned. "Looks like I forgot to tell you something too."

The hunter smirked. "Alright, smartass. Out with it."

"That blonde – the one you let get away..." He paused to give Dante time to make a connection, vaguely hoping the man would see his mistake. Dante remained unchanged, so Nero went on. "She told me that her master was interested to learn about another descendant of Sparda. She told me that he has plans for me."

Dante arched his brow. "That might be good news, kid."

Nero said nothing about the hunter's reversion back to calling him 'kid'. "How so?"

"It means they might want you alive."

Nero considered the possibility but couldn't make sense of it. Only a day after the blood sucker said this to him, she had tried to kill him. And none of the ones that they faced tonight had shown any restraint. The youth could not take part in any plan dead, so he doubted the validity of blonde's admission. That she had lied seemed the most plausible explanation. But then – if she was lying – why had she not been more aggressive with him at Port Caerula.

He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't think so."

Dante shrugged. "Leeches have got their own way of doin' things. It doesn’t make sense to me either, but you are still alive. I've got a feeling they haven't been tryin' too hard to do away with you."

"Okay," Nero said. "But that brings us back to the problem of finding out what they're up to. Since you don't make plans, I guess I gotta come up with something."

"Go for it. You seem like the smart type."

Nero huffed. "That's a change. A minute ago you were calling me stupid."

Dante waved it off. "Everyone makes mistakes. Even me. If you got some great idea about what to do next, I'll go along with it. But don't expect any input from me. You can't have looks and brains."

Nero chuckled. "I beg to differ."

The sound of the hunter's laughter filled the room. "Well, I will say this; you've got nice hair. And decent looks do run in the family, so I guess you're just gonna have to come up with somethin' good to prove me wrong."

Nero forced himself not to be distracted by Dante's use of the term family. "You related the blood suckers to demons," he said.

"But they're not demons," Dante reminded him.

"No," Nero stated. "But I'm pretty sure it's not just demon lords who like to stay in the background. It's that way with every mob. There's always a mastermind who stays hidden in the shadows, gets others to do his work for him. I doubt the main blood sucker is gonna waste his time walkin' around the city if he's got a plot in action."

Dante nodded. "Okay. So, you're wanting to go after this guy?" He paused. "Are you sure it's a guy?"

The youth nodded. "Blonde said 'he'. And yeah, I do. He's gotta be in Constantine. The setup is too good."

Dante leaned on the wall across from Nero. "You've got a point. I'm almost jealous."

Nero smiled smugly. "You ready to admit that I'm not just another pretty face?"

The hunter scoffed. "I'm not jealous of you, kid," he said. "I was just thinking what it must be like for the master. Having all those babes worship him. That's a sweet deal."

Nero looked at him for a moment than began to laugh. "Did it ever occur to you that not all men are as perverted as you?"

Dante let his eyes scan the room, then nodded. "I get that some of them are gay. But I wasn't referring to a stereotype. Vampires are lustful by nature. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that."

Nero had to concede the point. All of the female blood suckers he'd faced – even Terrah, the shy girl he'd known for years – were overly flirtations. They often made suggestive comments, even while defending themselves. He had assumed it was an attempt to throw him off guard.

"That's good to know," he said. "But it really doesn’t help us much. We gotta find a way to infiltrate the boss' hideout. Maybe if we get rid of him, the others will back off – a little."

"Don't get your hopes up. But, you are right. We need to concentrate on takein' out the biggest threat first. Then we can worry about the leftovers."

Nero leaned his head against the wall. He had no clue where to find the head vampire or even how to go about looking. Asking around would do no good. As Trish had said, the humans in Constantine were as bad as the vampires. They would offer no information to aid in the destruction of their co-inhabitants. The way they accepted the vampires was disturbing.

After a long time of nothing, Dante took out his sword and held it point down in front of him. "I'm not going to make you do this alone," he told Nero. "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Get some sleep, Nero."

Nero looked at Dante. "What about you?"

The hunter shrugged. "I'll stand watch. Just in case."

Nero sat down on the ground. This had been one of the longest days he'd ever had. He was taxed in both body and mind. The most irritating part of the entire experience was that he was no closer to having any answers now than he had been when he'd left Fortuna. He gazed up at Dante as the man stood watch.

"I think Lady was right," he muttered.

Dante glanced at him. "So do I, kid. But don't tell her I said that. I'd never hear the end of it."

Nero smiled. He imagined Lady could be quite egotistical if given the opportunity. She was certainly the type to savor any victory. No matter how small.

"Since I seem to be in a habit of forgetting things," Dante said. "I wanna tell you now that you did good back there."

Nero felt embarrassed at being praised and scratched his nose absentmindedly.

Dante grinned and spoke softly. "Watching you with Yamato...it kinda reminded me of my brother."

With no response and a multitude of questions, Nero closed his eyes. It wasn't long before he entered into a restless doze filled with strange dreams of a man who looked vaguely familiar that spoke to him in incoherent telepathy.


	9. Chapter 9

Nero was roused from sleep by the instant urging of Dante's voice as the devil hunter leaned over the youth and shook him gently. Nero's head rolled to the side and sharp pain racked his upper vertebrae. He opened his eyes and raised his head. He was still sitting on the dirt floor of the cellar, his legs stretched out and his back against the wall.

With a loud groan he sat up and massaged the taunt muscles of his neck. He looked up at Dante. The man grinned and shook his head.

"I thought you were gonna sleep all day," the hunter remarked.

Nero glanced around and noticed dull rays of sun penetrate the one small window of the partially underground building. He tried to shake off the residual grogginess of his inadequate slumber, along with the disquiet of his strangely vivid dreams. As the drowsiness began to fade, so too did the memories of those nighttime visions. They waned until all that remained were feelings of sadness and empathy that Nero didn't quite understand.

The youth forced himself to his feet and looked at his comrade. "I wouldn't mind it," he muttered.

Dante chuckled. "No time for that. We've got work to do."

Nero nodded forlornly. All the troubles of the past few weeks returned and weighed on him like an anvil. The conversation from the night before brought back the dismal knowledge that neither of them had any clue what to do next. Other than hunt down the Master, a feat much easier said than done. Sleep had brought about no great revelations as to how go about accomplishing this. Nero sincerely hoped that Dante could help him form some sort of scheme.

He studied the hunter. Dante looked basically the same as he always did. There was not a hint of fatigue in his features. "Did you sleep?" he asked.

Dante shook his head. "I'm a night owl. Besides, I slept on the train, remember?"

That was true. Dante had slept almost all of the eight-hour ride to Constantine. But still, that had been...only yesterday. To Nero, it felt much longer. He struggled to clear his head and get his thoughts back on track.

"So, you've just been sittin' here watching me sleep," he mused. "That's kinda creepy."

The hunter laughed. "No," he said. "I stayed for a little while. Then I got bored listen to you mumble in your sleep, so I went out."

Nero frowned. He had never known that he talked in his sleep. Kyrie had never mentioned it to him, and she surely would have known. He wondered what he had been saying, then the last part of Dante's announcement hit him.

"Out?" he repeated. "Out where?"

Dante waved his hand in a wide circle. "Constantine. Where else?"

"What about the blood suckers?"

The hunter stared at him then a slow smile spread on his face. "Is that concern I hear in your voice, Nero? I'm flattered.”

Nero scoffed. He still considered Dante to be an arrogant jerk, but he had grown to like his sense of humor. Even if it was irritating, it was also refreshing. "Whatever, jackass."

"Well, if you're gonna call me names then I won't tell you what I learned," the hunter said with a smirk.

Suddenly interested, Nero gave the elder man his full attention. "Okay, I'm sorry. Now tell me."

Dante just watched him as if deciding whether the apology was genuine of forced. "That sounded a little too eager," he said. "I think I forgot what I was gonna say."

Nero rolled his eyes. "I said I'm sorry. Don't push it, old man."

The hunter laughed. "Alright. You win. After our little...disagreement with the leeches last night, I figured they'd wanna lay low for a while. I'm sure they'll try to get revenge eventually, but not that quick after an ass kicking. So I thought there was no better time than the present to do a little snooping around."

Nero agreed with a nod. "What did you find out?"

"That the humans here are more scared of demons than vampires," Dante stated. "The leeches have taught them that they're the good guys and that devils are evil. No surprise there. The blood suckers have got no love for demons, or demons for them. It's a centuries old grudge."

"I'm guessin' there's a story behind that," Nero said. "I mean, if demon blood is toxic to the vampires, then there's really no treat. You'd think they'd get along."

"Yeah," Dante agreed. "I'm sure there's a reason behind the rivalry, but I don't know what it is. What I do know is that this-" he pointed to the ground "is where all the leeches originated from."

"You’re kidding," Nero elated. He felt a strong loathing for Constantine now that he knew it was the birthplace of the vampires.

"Why would I joke about something like that?"

Nero shook his head and waved for him to continue.

"Story goes, a long time ago Constantine was ruled by a monarchy. They had kings and queens and princesses, all the fairy tale crap – even a castle. The castle's still here, by the way. It's just on the edge of town. Anyway, it was all peaceful until one of the fair maidens decided she wanted to stay young and beautiful forever. That's when things started getting a little crazy. You ever notice how that's all it takes to complicate things? Just one woman."

Nero was quiet, but Dante showed no sign of continuing. "How did she manage to turn herself into a blood suckin' monster in her search for the fountain of youth?"

"That's basis for opinion. Some say she used alchemy. Others say she made a deal with the devil." Dante shook his head, conveying his disbelief. "The details may be foggy, but the ending's still the same. She liked her new power and wanted to share it with the world. The quickest way to do that would be to make herself queen. So one day she just killed the royal family and took over leadership. I'm sure the people opposed her rule at first, but humans can only do so much against vampires. Eventually, the leeches were accepted. And after generations, they became normal. And now, for the people of Constantine, this is the only way of life they know. Sad, isn't it?"

Nero slowly nodded. "Where'd you learn all this?"

The hunter sighed. "I met a girl while I was out walkin' last night. She told me. It took me a while to convince her that I wasn't gonna hurt her. She'd been at the bar and saw a lot of the fight. She was scared to death when I first tried to talked to her." He let out a dry laugh. "I really don't like people bein' afraid of me."

"Did you try asking her about 'the Master'?"

Dante nodded. "She didn't know much. The leeches live around here just like regular people. But she did say the castle is still their main residence. Castillo Vivientes. The name means 'the castle of life'. Ironic, huh?"

"You think that's where he's hidin'? The master?"

"I'm willing to bet on it."

A silence blanketed the room. Now that they had a place to start, Nero was reluctant to do so. This entire situation seemed so surreal. He felt as if he had been carelessly thrown into someone's twisted nightmare and forced to fight his way to the end. Even his actions gave him the impression that he was being controlled.

"Castillo Vivientes," he mused. "I'm guessin' it was given that name by the blood suckers. The Spanish aren't native to Constantine."

Dante shrugged, uninterested in the culture of the town or its inhabitants. "How are you on ammo?"

Nero checked his pockets and felt counted his extra rounds. He knew his gun was only lacking one shot. "I haven't really had to use Blue Rose much," he stated.

The elder hunter nodded. "I guess you really don't need it, do you?" he said, indicating the boy's right hand. "But you should still keep it close. You never know when it might come in handy."

Nero tried not to smile. "Again with the jokes."

Dante grinned. "Take it how you want, kid. We need to get movin'. It'll be sundown in a few hours. The light doesn't really bother the leeches, but they prefer darkness."

Nero picked up Red Queen from where he had rested it against the wall the night before and placed it on his back. He gestured for Dante to lead the way, and the two exited the depressing atmosphere of the cellar and emerged into the crystal blue clarity of a brightly hopeful day. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, accentuating the natural decoration of the flowers and shrubs that littered the open field. A light breeze made the leaves dance on their branches and the tall grass whisper wordlessly. To look at the horizon, one would think this was just another perfect day of many. No one would guess the terrible dilemma that the devil hunter and the young knight faced, nor the hardships that were sure to lay ahead of them.

Dante looked at Nero. "I know you don't like taking orders," he said, "but I need the lead on this. I'm older and I got more experience."

The youth looked away. It pained him to acknowledge the fact that Dante was, indeed, the better fighter of the pair. Part of him wanted to argue. That part wanted a chance to prove to the demon hunter that he was more than just a kid and that he could take care of himself. He had been doing it all his life, after all. Sure, there had been his adoptive parents to help him as a child. But that was only because he had been too young to do everything on his own. Still, when you take away all the petty affection of strangers, Nero had no one but himself. That was how he liked it. How he had always wanted it.

"Whatever," he mumbled.

"I'm not trying to insult you," Dante told him. "You're good with a sword, but if shit goes bad, I only want myself to blame."

Nero met his gaze. The snarky expression wasn't present in the hunter's face. What was there was the uncharacteristic concern of a friend. The youth took a minute to savor the unspoken bond along with what it felt like to have someone who didn't have to care do so.

Then he grinned and made an attempt to lighten the mood. "What? You're not gonna add better lookin' to the list?"

Dante smirked. "I thought that was obvious."

Nero shook his head. "I still think you're a jackass."

Dante began to walk toward town as if it really were just another day and their lives weren't in danger. Nero followed in his own person gait of self-assurance.

"And I still think you're a punk," the hunter called from his two-step lead.

Nero chuckled. He didn't need to see Dante's face to know that the other man was smiling as well.


	10. Chapter 10

Castillo Vivientes was a vast, sprawling mansion positioned amid a dense forest that overlooked Constantine from its vantage point atop a steep incline. Constructed mainly of large chunks of stone held together by handmade mortar, the massive structure that had once held political symbolism in Constantine was in dire need of renovation. One of the northern watchtowers had collapsed, taking a good portion of the lower floor with it. The stained-glass windows that had remained intact were caked with dirt, making any view an impossibility. On the whole it looked as if the entire palace would fall under the assault of a strong wind.

The grounds and courtyard were unattended as well. Weeds had overtaken the flowerbeds, and the shrubbery was unkempt. What had once been a breathtaking landscape was now nothing but a time worn wasteland.

Out of all the flaws one could point out about Castillo Vivientes, the most disturbing was the existence of a tall citadel at the direct center of the structure. The dark brick used for the tower's making suggested that it had been built at a far later date than the rest of the fortress. That in itself was odd considering the lack of upkeep. However, the fact that it seemed to serve no purpose at all was the strangest. It's location and the absence of windows betrayed that it's use was not as a lookout. Yet, it was higher than any of the other jutting spires.

Nero stared at the fortification. He felt the strong urge to look away but could not pull his gaze from the perplexing sight. His demonic arm throbbed, and he could have sworn that a voice was speaking to him with silent imagery. A wave of anguish prodded the back of his mind and he struggled no to let it take hold.

"What the hell is that?" he asked Dante, pointing to the out-of-place turret.

The elder hunter shrugged. By his expression, Nero could tell the other man felt it too. The feeling of dread and absolute wrongness that the tower was emitting.

"Maybe that's where they keep the princess," Dante joked. Though he smiled, his voice held none of its usual frivolity.

Nero watched him and decided it was best to let the attempt at humor go overlooked.

Dante let out a breath and approached the main door. "C'mon, kid."

The youth followed. He kept his eyes focused on the solid oak of the entrance so as not to have to look up at the abomination overhead.

"I can't see a vampire lord hidin' out in a hellhole like this," he announced.

Dante gave a slight nod of agreement and stopped in front of door. He studied the portal with crossed arms, as if expecting it to open of its own accord.

Nero extracted Red Queen and held it up. "We'll probably have to break it down," he guessed.

Dante put his hand on the knob and gave it a twist. It turned freely and the latch clicked as the mechanisms within released. The door inched forward.

"Always try the simplest method first," the hunter advised as he pushed through the entryway.

Nero sheathed his sword and followed. He glanced around at the foyer, willing his eyes to adjust to the drastic change in lighting. Despite being dark, the interior was decently clean and oddly fragrant. Of course the latter most likely came from the female vampire who was standing at the foot of the stairway watching the two men with a stoic expression.

"Welcome to Castillo Vivientes," she greeted in a sweet voice.

Nero put his hand on the hilt of Red Queen but was stopped from releasing it by quick shake of Dante's head. Nero stared at the hunter in confusion. The other gave no indication as to why he didn't want to fight at the moment. Nero started to protest, then remembered that he had agreed to let the hunter have lead on this excursion. With an irritated huff, he let his hand fall from his weapon.

"I'm Claire," the blood sucker continued. "And you must be the infamous slayers that the others have been complaining about."

"Guess so," Dante responded. "And you must be the receptionist."

Claire grinned. "You could say that." Her brown eyes scanned each of the men, lingering on Nero's right hand before returning to Dante. The youth made no move to hide his demonic hand. "What an interesting pair you are," she stated. "Clearly you are descendants of the devil Sparda."

The elder hunter gave her a proud bow and smiled. "So, I take it you met my dad."

Claire shook her head. Her ebony curls flowed on her shoulders as she did. "I, fortunately, never had that displeasure. I was young when he disappeared."

Nero stared at the vampire. Her comment about age caught him off guard. Sparda had died – or as some believed, only went into hiding – over thirty years ago. Claire looked to be about the same age as Nero and the youth had to remind himself that vampires didn't show years like humans. They remained stuck in the state they were changed in. He wondered if she meant that she was child or a newly created vampire at the time Sparda vanished.

Dante nodded. "Gotcha. I guess you're here to deliver a message from your master?"

Again, Claire nodded. "He's quite upset with your massacre of the young ones," she said with a pained expression. "There was no reason for them to have been killed. They had done nothing wrong."

"That depends on your definition of wrong," Nero retorted.

Claire sneered at him. Her eyes flickered red for a second and the youth once again put his hand to his sword. Then the vampiress sighed and calmed herself, letting her face relax.

"The actives they were taking part in were completely consensual," she said. "You loath us because we are different. Is that not the same reason that the humans look down on you?"

Nero was startled by the revelation. It was true that the people of Fortuna steered clear of him, even after all he had done to help preserve their way of life. He had always been, and would likely always be, treated as an outcast. Even the knights of The Order who'd accepted Nero shied away from the youth.

Yet, he could see no similarity between himself and the vampires. They killed. If only because they had to, they killed. The memories of all the casualties in Fortuna were still fresh in Nero's mind. That gave him justification for what he'd done.

It was Dante who broke the tension in the room. "What's the message?" he asked Claire.

She turned her gaze back to the demon hunter. "That you abandon your attempt at vengeance and succumb to the will of the vampires." She spoke this as if discussing nothing more important than the weather or the latest bit of dull news.

Dante huffed. "He should know I'm not gonna do that."

Claire nodded. She lowered her eyes. "It was expected," she whispered.

The elder hunter shook his head. He slowly walked over to where she stood, and Claire looked up at him.

"Why did you agree to do this?" he asked.

Nero watched, silently wondering what he meant.

"Because, slayer-"

"My name is Dante."

Claire gave him a genuinely kind smile. "Dante," she repeated. The hunter frowned but didn't protest. "He asked me to."

Dante's expression became a mixture of confusion, remorse, and anger. Nero wasn't sure what the man was doing, but he continued to stand down. If the hunter needed him, he was ready. His hand was still locked on Red Queen and eager to draw it at the first hint of aggression from the female blood sucker.

"You gonna put up a fight?" Dante asked.

Claire glared for a moment, then reluctantly shook her head.

"That's too bad," the hunter said. He grinned at her. "I like a feisty woman."

The vampiress smiled. A playful glint appeared in her eyes, but still she remained relaxed. She and Dante stared at each other for a long time, then the hunter sighed loudly and put his hand on the hilt of Rebellion. His movements were almost too fast to be seen. In a second the man had drawn his broadsword and detached Claire's head from the rest of her. As her body fell to the floor, oozing dark blood from the gaping hole, Dante slowly shook his head and scoffed in the silence. He turned to Nero and the youth saw fury in his blue eyes.

"Just one more reason to kill that bastard."

Nero glanced around and replayed the scene in his head. He was surprised to realize that it all made perfect sense now. Claire had known she would die when she had accepted the request from her master. Yet she had still done it, simply because he had asked her to. Nero wondered if she had protested. If she begged him to get someone else to play her part. Deep down, he really didn't think that she had.

She could have fought them. Even if she knew she would lose, she still could have fought. Maybe she hadn't seen any point. Nero and Dante had both proven that they could overcome vast odds, so her attempt at self-preservation would have been in vain. But the way she had accepted her fate...

Nero doubted he could show that kind of courage. He wanted to say that Claire had acted foolishly. That she had given up too easily. But he didn't see it that way. She had paid with her life to help a cause – unjust as it was – that she believed in. That in itself granted her bravery.

Nero cursed himself for sympathizing with the enemy. Once you started doing that, the lines between right and wrong became obscure. He needed to keep his head in the game and forget about the sacrifice Claire had made and how much it saddened him.

He looked at Dante. "So, what are we waitin' around here for then?"

The hunter smirked and turned back toward the staircase. Nero noticed that he kept his eyes raised so that he wouldn't have to look at the corpse of Claire at his feet.

"It's always a tower in the books, right?" Dante said. "That means we need to go up."

Without further delay, the two began to ascend the steps, making sure to keep a respectful distance between themselves and the lifeless body of the fallen vampire.


	11. Chapter 11

Dante and Nero paused at the top of the stairs. Each looked around analytically. Both avoided casting their eyes the way they had come. Though it was dark, the outline of Claire's lifeless body could still be seen if either had chosen to look.

Nero pushed all recent events from his mind and made an effort to decide the most suitable route to continue their upward trek. There was a solid brick wall directly ahead of them. The left and right of the hallway looked exactly the same, ending at double doors a few yards away.

The youth cast a glance at his compatriot, who looked back at him with indecision.

"Well?" Nero questioned. "Which way?"

"What are you asking me for?" Dante returned.

Nero shifted his weight and frowned at the hunter. "You wanted the lead, remember?"

The elder man huffed and crossed his arms. Beneath the fringes of white bangs, Nero saw his brow knit. The knight was not an overly patient person and he got the feeling that Dante was intentionally putting off making a choice just to annoy Nero. This opinion strengthened when the other man turned back to him with a smirk on his face.

"I think I'll let you decide," he announced.

Nero scowled and shook his head. He gazed in either direction and picked one at random. "Left."

Dante nodded and gave him a halfhearted pat on the shoulder. "Have fun, kid," he told the youth as he headed right.

Nero glared at his departing back. "Hey! I thought you said I get to pick!"

Dante looked over his shoulder without breaking stride. "You did," he called back. "you're goin' left."

Nero stared at the hunter until he disappeared through his chosen door. He considered following Dante, just to irk the other man. But that would just give the hunter the impression that Nero was afraid, a false accusation for which he would goad the youth endlessly. Splitting up was more than likely a ploy to see if the younger could follow orders without defiance. A test, and one which Nero had every intention of passing.

With a scoff the youth turned and took his left path, releasing Blue Rose from its holster as he went. He wasn't scared of the blood suckers. Yet, he knew if he was going to play on their turf, it was best to be armed. He wasn't about to let one of the leeches catch him unprepared.

Pushing open the door, Nero entered the south wing. He kept his gun in a tight fist at his side as he looked around at what was obviously a library. It was large with a vast selection of seating and elegantly carved shelves filled with cracked and broken-spined leather tomes. One of the floor length windows on the eastern wall was missing, which allowed natural light to flood the large room.

Nero paced the area slowly, glancing in all directions. There were other doors located on the south and west walls. He decided to take the one that would continue his progress left and moved forward cautiously. Thus far he had seen nothing out of the ordinary – if anything about a palace belonging to vampires could be considered ordinary – but it was best to expect trouble and not have any than to not expect it and walk into a trap.

The next door Nero went through brought the youth into a large gallery. Masterfully done paintings adorned every wall. The marble floor was littered with sculptures and pedestal supporting vases, crystal trinkets and other expensive works of art. Nero paused to examine some of them and was shocked to recognize a few of the artifacts as ancient treasures thought to be lost by historians. Delving deeper into the labyrinth of priceless art, Nero stopped at painting depicting the division of the human and demon worlds. He gazed at Sparda and wondered how accurate the scene was.

"Always gotta be the hero," he mused to the portrait.

A soft huff made the youth jump and spin quickly, bringing Blue Rose up to aim at the head of the blonde leech who had crept up behind him while he was lost in revelry. Nero glared as the female watched him with a slight smile.

"Why is it," she spoke, "that demons think of themselves so narcissistically?"

Nero rejoiced the fact that he stood face to face with the same blood sucker who had caused him so much torment and he vowed that he would not let her get away again.

"I could say the same about you leeches," he spat with a malicious grin. He leveled Blue Rose on the soft crease of her brow and pulled back the hammer. His finger was poised to squeeze the trigger, but she stopped him with just one word.

"Nero," she said sweetly, dramatically shaking her head in disapproval.

The youth froze. He couldn't understand the feeling that had come over him, nor describe it accurately. All he knew was that this woman knew him. Really _knew_ him. In a way that no one else ever could. He felt compelled to act on her every command. And why shouldn't he? This goddess was, after all, his master. He must belong to her, because that was the only explanation as to how she could possibly know him so well.

Thankfully, the feeling only lasted for about ten seconds. When it wore off, Nero was able to justify Dante's anger with him at calling out his name. He was also able to understand what a great honor the devil hunter had done Claire by allowing her to use his name. It had been a symbol of trust. Like last rites before an execution.

Ten seconds was not a long time, but it was long enough for the blonde to gain the advantage. She was already dangerously close to Nero by the time he broke out of his trance.

Nero acted quickly. He kicked at her and dove out of the way, firing a few shots without really knowing or caring what they hit. He was sure none of the bullets would hit the blood sucker, but he hoped they would at least distract her. As he got back to his feet, Nero exchanged his gun for his sword. He revved the fuel injection and glanced around trying to locate his foe. If he hadn't known better he would have sworn the blonde had disappeared. But he could still smell her in the room.

"That's impressive," called a voice from his right.

Nero turned. He sneered at the statue of a man behind which he guessed the leech was hiding. He advanced swiping Red Queen in a wide slash that cut the stone figure at the shoulders. Looking over the clean cut, the youth saw not a hint of the blonde. He growled and looked around. He hated not knowing where that leech was hiding.

There was a soft giggle to Nero's left and he once again turned swinging Red Queen without searching for his target. The sword glanced off the wall and rebounded with force. The recoil just fed Nero's anger. He felt his demonic arm throb and longed to give in. For some reason, he resisted. A voice inside his head seem to tell him to wait.

As rage boiled, the youth lashed out again. This time with words.

"Show yourself, leech!" he taunted, turning to face the open room. "Unless you’re scared of me!"

A laugh directly ahead and a flash of blonde hair near the doorway. Nero tightened his grip on the hilt of Red Queen and made to run at her.

The blonde smiled. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said, extending her forefinger to point to the ceiling.

Nero looked up and noticed the huge chandelier overhead swaying precariously. Only now did his ears register the sound of twings as the clasps holding it in place broke. His eyes followed the chain from the top of the massive light to the wall behind him. It was a wonder, as hard as he had swung his sword, that the support for the candelabrum hadn't given way on impact. Nero cursed himself for not watching where he aimed, then just cursed from frustration.

His eyes darted back to the door that was latching from where the blood sucker had exited. He looked back at the overhead candle holder just as the last clasp broke. He might have had time to make it across the room without being crushed, but would it have been worth the risk? The leech was gone, and he had no way of knowing where she'd went. But at least he would be able to catch up with Dante.

Nero decided not to chance it. The chandelier fell to the floor with a loud crash. He threw up his arms to shield his face against the assault of now worthless pottery, porcelain, crystal, metal, and stone.

In the aftermath, Nero stood and glanced around. He took one step forward, trying to locate the safest path through the debris. That one step was all the youth managed before the loud cracking of stone drew his attention to the marble floor. Hairline fractures were spider-webbing out from the center. Nero cursed again, more vehemently this time, as the floor suddenly began to fall through in a dramatic example of gravity.

Pointing Red Queen downward, Nero prepared for the fall. He had a second of weightlessness before the second floor collided with the first. And then another second of the same sensation as the previous two floors gave way to the basement.

Most of the impact of the fall was absorbed by his sword, so Nero was left unharmed. Yet, he was shaken and more than a little dusty. Straitening to brush himself off, the youth looked up at the gaping hole that led to the ceiling of the gallery. He scoffed and ran a hand through his white locks to free them of miniscule bits of stone and wood.

"Next time I'll take the stairs," he muttered, grimacing at the pile of rubble.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance."

Nero spun, raising Red Queen. A sneer formed on his face as he noticed the blood sucker leaning against the wall and surveying the damage. Her amber eyes seemed more interested in what was left of the chandelier than the sword that the youth had pointed at her. Her lips frowned and she glanced at Nero. Still showing no sign of fear at all.

"I wish you hadn't used the museum for your arena," she stated.

Nero arched his brow at her. His eyes flicked to the debris, then back to the woman. He allowed himself to take in her full appearance and was confused to notice the presence of a long, black, four-pronged whip on her right hip.

Another thing that struck him as odd was that she was wearing make-up. Not an obscene amount, just enough earth tones to bring out the natural shape and beauty of her eyes. Though he hadn't bothered to pay attention at the time, Nero could remember none of the other female leeches wearing cosmetics. It was a strange revelation, and he wasn't sure why he even noticed it.

They stared at each other for a moment, then the vampire removed herself from the wall and walked by Nero. She seemed unconcerned that his sword followed her every movement. She knelt next to the pile of junk and sifted through. Managing to find a card sized piece of porcelain, she stood and examined it.

"Did you know that this was once an urn that held the ashes of Constanine's first king?" she asked.

Nero frowned. He wasn't sure that the blood sucker even knew he was there. With no answer to her statement, he spoke the first words that came to his mind. "Who the hell are you?"

The vampire dropped the piece of urn and looked at him. "Abigail," she announced. "And I already know who you are. You have a quite a reputation as a vampire slayer."

Nero cocked his head at her. He didn't like the fact that she knew his name. He readjusted his grip on Red Queen, still not lowering it.

"Don't worry, sweetie," Abigail said with a smile. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have already done it. You've given me plenty of time."

Nero slowly let his sword fall to his side. He watched Abigail intently, not knowing what to make of her. So far, she had shown no sign of aggression. But that only baffled the youth more. Every blood sucker he'd come in contact with had displayed their hatred of him. He wondered why she didn't.

"I didn't think blood suckers needed weapons," he said, eying the whip.

"Against humans, they don't," Abigail told him.

"So what does that make you?” Nero asked “A demon hunting leech?"

Abigail frowned. "I would appreciate it if you didn't refer to me in such a lewd manner," she said. "But yes. I suppose one could say that."

Nero scoffed. "That's kinda funny. If you kill demons, why aren't you gonna kill me?"

"You're not a demon," she announced factually.

This statement only did more to befuddle Nero. He glanced at his right arm, clenching, and unclenching the demonic claw. "That's not what your friends think."

Abigail watched him with a stoic expression. "I don't have any friends," she said simply.

For lack of anything better to say, Nero mumbled, "Okay."

With a quiet sigh, Abigail smiled at him. "I suppose you need to be getting back upstairs."

Nero gazed around the dungeon, trying to decide if he should admit that he should. He could detect no malice in Abigail's voice or body language, but he still didn't know if he could trust her. She was a vampire, albeit an odd one. That made her the enemy.

The fact that he wasn't sure about his and Dante's next move still annoyed him. He watched the woman and wondered if she could give him any information about 'The Master'. She had said she wasn't friends with the rest of the leeches, but that could have just meant she preferred to stay on the outside of the pack. That didn't necessarily mean she wasn't loyal to the cause.

"What about you?" he asked. "What are you doin' down here?"

"At the moment, nothing," Abigail answered.

Nero shook his head at the vague reply. "What are you gonna do after I leave?"

"Return to my task."

"Which is?"

"None of your concern."

Nero chuckled. "You always answer questions that way?"

Abigail gave him a sly grin. "No."

He shrugged. He couldn't deny that he was irritated with the way she was dodging his questions. But he still didn't think he had a valid reason to kill her. He could have done so just because of what she was, but his conversation with Claire had tainted his point of view. If Abigail became a threat, Nero wouldn't hesitate to chop off her head. For now he would be satisfied just to get away from her. The dust had settled, and her scent was clouding his mind.

He searched around for a door and noticed one on the opposite side of the room. "Well, good luck with...whatever you're doin'," he said as he walked by Abigail.

"Good luck finding your way back up," she responded. "It's a little confusing down here."

Nero paused and looked back at her. "I'm sure I can figure it out."

Abigail met his gaze. "Maybe. But if you would like a guide, I know my way around."

Nero couldn't keep from gaping at her. It seemed everything Abigail said and did surprised him. He considered her motive for wanting to help him. As she said, he had given her ample time to kill him if that's what she had wanted to do.

"It would be much faster," she stated.

With a reluctant sigh, Nero gestured for Abigail to lead the way. She gracefully stepped passed him through the doorway and he followed.

He wondered what Dante would say about him trusting a blood sucker. As if the hunter had any reason to say anything. It had been his idea to separate in the first place, which gave Nero free reign over his actions.

The youth decided that if Dante had any objections, Nero would just tell the other man where he could shove his complaints.

****  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Abigail had not been exaggerating when she'd told Nero that the dungeon could get confusing. It was a vast maze of tunnels and rooms that wound so frequently one could become lost within minutes. Nero often looked around the catacombs and swore that he'd seen a certain misplaced brick or familiar shape of dust before. He silently wondered if the vampire was leading him in circles. Yet her steps were sure. She rarely paused or even glanced around to get her bearings during their venture.

The only indication Nero had that they were indeed going in the proper direction was that the smell of crushed plaster and splintered wood grew ever fainter until the young man could smell nothing but the floral scent of his vampiric companion. He had not a doubt that, had he chosen to decline Abigail's offer for guidance, it would have taken him hours to navigate the labyrinth.

Nero trudged along after Abigail, keeping a close eye on her from behind. He was still unsure of her intentions. But any attempt he made at conversation was thwarted by a short, often single worded reply. He likened his conversations with the vampire to those he had with a magic eight ball as a child. Now he couldn't see how he had ever found such a toy amusing. He tried to accept that he wouldn't get much from other than what she'd already related to him. And that was very little.

"Where does this lead?" he asked, swatting at a cobweb that had encased the upper part of another doorway. Abigail was half a foot shorter than him, so she ducked beneath the obstacles, thus leaving them for Nero to contend with. He thought she did so on purpose.

"The north wing," she stated in her usual emotionless tone.

Nero glanced at the ceiling, as if by doing so he could pinpoint their exact location beneath the castle. The north wing was where he needed to go. That's where Dante had headed when the two had parted company.

"Great," he muttered.

After another few minutes of silent walking, Nero was becoming bored with the lack of entertainment. At least with Dante, there was always the ability to speak freely and the occasional sarcastic remark that helped pass the time. Had he been alone, Nero would have no problem with the quietness. However, being alone with a leech he didn't exactly trust, the youth felt the weight of discomfort set in. He abandoned all attempts at etiquette and went for a direct approach.

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on?" he asked.

Abigail didn't give any indication of even hearing the inquiry. She continued walking at her slow, fluid gait with eyes straight ahead. Nero was tempted to repeat the question when she spoke.

"I'd love to," she stated.

Nero actually fell back a step at the response. He waited somewhat patiently for her to explain. When she didn't he glared at the back of her head.

"Well?" he prodded.

"'Well' what?" Abigail returned.

Nero scoffed and stopped walking. He refused to take another step until he got some answers. Abigail obviously knew something, yet she was in no hurry to disclose anything and it was beginning to piss him off. He crossed his arms and contemplated shooting her just to see how she would react. He guessed her response would be more than just a simple evasive remark. He smirked at the thought, but quickly tried to hide it as she turned to look at him. Abigail's eyebrows arched at his expression then she calmly tilted her head and grinned at Nero.

"Not now," she said soothingly.

Nero stared at her. He was elated by the fact that she intended to clue him in on what the vampires were up to but disheartened that he had to wait for the knowledge. "Why?"

"Because I don't like repeating myself," she answered.

Nero allowed his confusion to show on his face. He couldn't fathom who else Abigail would want to tell these things to. Of course Dante would be interested to hear them, but she didn't know that the hunter was at Castillo Vivientes. Or maybe she did. Nero and the other man were the talk of the town at the moment. And if The Master knew they were here, he had more than likely told his underlings.

Nero reluctantly nodded. "Alright. But can you at least tell me what your master has planned for me?"

Abigail's upper lip curled, and Nero started as a low hiss emitted from her throat. Her eyes fixed on him in a steady, rage-filled glare. "I have no master," she said in a low feral tone.

Nero slowly lowered his hand to the butt of Blue Rose. He had never really been afraid of a blood sucker before. Even when they had been intent on killing him, they had never displayed anger the way Abigail was. Nero felt his heart thud and he couldn't deny that he was afraid of the look on her face. He thoroughly regretted bring up the vampire lord to her.

Abigail's expression quickly receded back to one of solid indifference. "No," she said. "I'm unaware of any plans."

She turned and began walking again. Nero hesitated then followed without removing his hand from his gun. He pushed all questions from his mind, deciding that they were best saved until he was back in the company of the seasoned devil hunter.

The rest of the journey through the dungeon was made in silence. Nero followed the lithe form of the vampire doing his best to avoid looking at her. As much as he disliked the indirect way in which Abigail spoke, Nero was not inclined to risk angering her again. The best course of action he could think of was to keep his feet moving and his mouth shut.

After an uncertain amount of time, the pair came to an iron door that opened to an ascending staircase. At the top was another door. This one more ornate and fashioned from thick oak. Abigail pushed it open by leaning her mass on it. The wood scraped against stone, the sound made louder by the stillness. As Nero exited behind her, he noticed the reason behind the door's reluctance to budge. Before them was nothing but a pile of brick where the kitchen had once stood. The youth was amazed that Abigail had been able to clear the doorway of debris so effortlessly. He had to remind himself that just because she appeared small and fragile, that did not mean she was.

Abigail then proceeded to climb the heap of rubbish with catlike ease. Nero clambered after her, searching for handholds and footholds all the way. Once at the top, he caught his breath at the view. It was dusk and the forest shimmered in the pale light. The first of the countless stars twinkled above the earth.

Nero pulled his eyes from the sight and set out after Abigail. In his struggle to catch up with her, the youth's foot stumbled on a loose stone and he fell on his bottom with a hard thud. The rocks under him dislodged and he slid part way down the mound before catching himself.

Nero unleashed an irritated curse as he began to climb the rock pile once more. He heard a light chuckle from above and looked up to see Abigail watching him with amusement. He scowled at her as he felt heat color his cheeks. Closer to the top, the vampire knelt and held her hand out to Nero. He hesitated before reaching up with his right hand to take hers. Abigail withdrew her hand and shook her head at him.

"May I have the other one, please?" she asked.

Nero eyed his demonic claw, then repositioned his grip so that he could offer her his normal hand instead. Abigail extended her fingers once more and Nero clutched them. The sensation of her skin on his gave him a warm tingle, but it wasn't nearly as strong as when Becca had touched him. After finishing his ascent, Nero pulled his hand away from Abigail's and watched her with an abashed expression. The vampire gazed back at him blankly.

"Is something wrong, slayer?"

Nero shook his head. He wasn't willing to admit that he hadn't enjoyed her touch as much as he thought he would have. He didn't know if she was able to control whatever power it was that gave vampires their strange abilities or if he had just gotten used to being around her.

"Why didn't you want the other one?" he asked, brandishing his devil bringer in front of her.

Abigail shrugged. "I'm sure you already know that vampires and demons do not get along."

"Yeah," Nero said. "But you said I wasn't a demon."

Abigail just grinned at him but offered no further explanation. She turned to continue their journey. Nero had no choice but to follow.

The sky was a navy blue by the time Nero and Abigail uncovered the archway to the dining room. Nero hadn't thought that he and Dante had been inside Castillo Vivientes long enough for night to fall. To the young knight time had passed quickly. But he had been quite preoccupied. He wondered if Dante was looking for him. Or if the hunter had managed to find trouble of his own.

After the dining area, their path took them back to the foyer. Nero averted his eyes and refused to look upon the sight of Claire's corpse as it lay in the same prone position it had fallen in as a result of Dante's macabre favor. He pondered Abigail's thoughts at seeing one of her comrades dead, but the woman seemed to take no notice of the body other than to nudge a lifeless hand out of her way as she walked.

Nero grimaced at Abigail. He considered what she had done to be an act of disrespect and it almost made him dislike her more than he already did. Though he had no attachment to Claire, her death had been personal to him. To Abigail, it seemed to mean nothing at all.

One again at the top of the steps, Nero paused and looked at Abigail.

"Thanks for leading me back up here," he told her. "I'd still like to hear what you have to tell me."

Abigail's eyes flicked to the right doorway and a frown wrinkled her brow. "I'm sure you both would," she said quietly.

Nero tried not to be impressed by the fact that she knew he wasn't on his own. "He's not really a fan of vampires," he told her about Dante.

The blood sucker's lip curled in a playful smile. "I wonder why," she mused.

Nero ignored her reaction and approached the doorway. He felt Abigail's presence behind him as he walked. It didn't bother him to turn his back to her. He honestly felt like she meant him no harm.

As the youth pushed open the door, he was met by the positive exclamation of an amused Dante that stood in the center of a spacious ball room with arms held out wide to indicate the posh area.

"Hey, kid!" the hunter greeted. "Check it out! You could throw a hell of a-"

The elder man stopped abruptly as his eyes fell on the vampire. His hands left the air and went to his hips as his eyes scanned Abigail. An annoyed expression was evident on his features.

Nero was quick to interject, afraid that the situation may become hostile. He avoided using Dante's name and proceeded to introduce Abigail. "Hey, this is-"

Dante threw up a hand to silence the youth. "You don't gotta tell me, kid."

The vampiress looked up at Nero. "The younger Son of Sparda and I have already met," she explained.

Nero glanced from Abigail to Dante. They stared at each other, both looking irritated at being forced to be in the others company once again. In the thick silence that ensued, the youth sighed and wished he could be anywhere but where he was.


	13. Chapter 13

Nero shifted his gaze to Dante. The devil hunter was still watching the vampire fixedly with his arms crossed. Abigail was likewise returning the sentiment. The youth wasn't sure how long it would be before he cracked under the weight of the heavy silence. Yet, he had no clue how to break it. The history between Abigail and Dante was a mystery to him, though he steeled himself for the violent reunion as that seemed the most likely end to the duo's staring contest. The unexpected thought of who he would side with if that happened nearly made him laugh. True, Dante was the one the youth should stand beside. The hunter had helped him more than Abigail and he supposed their bond could be classified as friendship. Yet, Abigail...

Nero could find no reason to side with the vampire, but that didn't suppress the urge to want to. She had been nice to him – in her own way.

The youth chewed his bottom lip as he tried to conjure something to say to end the battle of quietness. As it was, he was saved the trouble by Abigail

"Why do you look so surprised to see me, half breed?" she asked Dante. The man eased his expression into a cool glare at her insult. "You've spent the last two weeks searching every inch of Capulet City for me and now that I stand before you, you're positively speechless."

"What makes you think I was lookin' for you?" Dante asked. "Sounds to me like your ego might be a little overinflated."

Nero took a small step away from Abigail. He expected the vampire to unleash another growl, but she surprised him once more by laughing.

"The depths of your stupidity is amusing. But tell me, if you weren't searching for me, why did you break our agreement and enter my part of town?"

Dante looked away nonchalantly and shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't causin' any more trouble. I don't relish the idea of playing assassin for you again."

Nero looked at the hunter. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, not at all meaning it. It irritated him to be ignored. Furthermore, it angered him to realized that the other man had been hiding information all along. "Thought you said you took care of all the blood suckers in Capulet City." He flicked his eyes to Abigail, but she looked unmoved by his use of the rude term.

Dante sighed and looked at the youth. "I didn't lie to you, kid," he said in an exasperated tone.

"Then why didn't you say anything about Abigail?" Nero countered.

"Because it was none of your business," the other man returned.

Nero's scowled at him. "That's convenient," he muttered.

Dante closed the distance between the two of them and stared at Nero with a reprimanding look that only made the youth madder. It wasn't necessarily the expression that the young man disliked. It was the feeling of childlike shame that accompanied it.

"You know I hate it when you beat around the bush," Dante lectured. "So if you've got something to say, say it. But, while you're complaining you can explain to me why you've been missin' for almost four hours and why you thought it'd be a good idea to invite _her_ to our little party."

Nero seethed at the accusing tone the man used. "It's none of your business," he retorted. "It was your idea to split up. I did what I had to get back up here. I thought we were supposed to be workin' together here, but you keep shutin' me out. You always blame me for your mistakes when it's you who won't fill me in. I left Fortuna because _you_ wanted me to, and you've done nothing to help me since I got here. I was better off back home. At least there, I knew who the real enemy was. You've got no right to tell me what to do. You're an arrogant jackass and you're not my damn father!"

Nero turned away and felt his face flush and his ears burn. He wasn't so much angry anymore as he was embarrassed at having a stranger witness his breakdown. Not only had he over exaggerated the comment that Dante had not tried to help him, but he’d also let his personal concerns cloud his thinking. Nero scolded himself but it was too late to take back his statement.

"Well," Dante said. "Now that you got that off your chest, maybe you'll listen for once."

Nero glared at him. "I don't wanna hear anything you have to say."

"That's too bad, Nero." The young man snorted as the hunter said his name. "Cause I got something I wanna say. I suggested splitin' up because I thought you'd be more relaxed without me. You've been on edge lately and I get why. But don't get it in your head that I'm the bad guy. If I didn't think you could take care of yourself, I never would have let you tag along with me in the first place."

"You didn't let me," Nero told him. "I was my idea."

Dante chuckled. "Believe what you want. But don't think I wouldn't have had your ass on a first class trip back to Fortuna if I didn't think you could handle this."

Nero scoffed. He wanted to argue that Dante couldn't have made him do anything, but that wasn't really the point. The point was that Dante had agreed to let Nero join him freely knowing the kid would have come to Constantine no matter what. Alone, the youth would have more than likely been at the mercy of the vampires.

"Whatever," Nero mumbled.

He tentatively looked back at Abigail. The woman was watching both men with a slight smile that did nothing to ease his discomfort. It almost appeared as if she enjoyed watching them argue.

Dante looked at her, too. He huffed with indignation. "Why're you here anyhow, leech? You never take anyone's side but you're own. What's all this crap got to do with you?"

"Dante." The command issued so lightly made the hunter frown, then sneer as the effects wore off. "It's insulting for you to talk like you know me when you are so pathetically ignorant of my intentions," she said.

"Well, if you wanna clue me in, I'm not gonna stop you."

She arched her brow at him. "But as a devil hunter it's your job to solve mysteries. And you did say you prefer to work alone, so far be it for me to deprive you of the joy of unraveling the complex scheme Dastan has in store, or my part in it."

Dante's eyes widened slightly at her words. "Dastan, huh? That the head honcho's name?"

Abigail frowned at him. "I didn't think even you would be insane enough to approach an enemy without first learning something about them. You are obviously far more foolish than I initially gave you credit for."

The hunter smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment," he stated. "Tell me more about your ex-boyfriend."

Abigail regarded him in silence for a long time. Nero watched her out of the corner of his eye. He knew her temperament could be somewhat unpredictable. Especially where 'The Master' was concerned. The flicker of rage in the vampiress' eyes was expected. But the grin she gave Dante after it disappeared was not.

"I never said I'd tell you anything, halfbreed," she announced. "My arrangement was made with...the young knight. Not you."

Dante looked impressed that she hadn't used Nero's name or referred to him in one of the same derogatory terms that she did the hunter. "That's cool," he said. "But Nero and I are partners. So tellin' him somethin' is the same as tellin' me."

Nero glanced at the man. Then at Abigail. She returned his gaze, and a smile lit her features. "Not the father, yet assuming the role nonetheless," she mused. "My, how interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dante asked her.

Abigail resumed her stoic demeanor as she turned to him. "I didn't think you had the capacity for paternal affection."

The hunter shook his head and chuckled. "There's a lot you don't know about me, babe."

Abigail focused on nothing and crossed her arms. "Apparently," she murmured.

Nero fidgeted. He continued to watch her. "Dante's right," he said. They both looked at him. "You can't really help me without helping him, too. And it really doesn’t seem like you wanna do that."

Abigail gazed up at him. "I might consider it," she said.

Dante let out a deep breath. "Why do I get the feeling you're gonna ask me to do something I really don't wanna do."

The vampire grinned, not even trying to hide how much she enjoyed antagonizing him. "Apologize," she requested.

Dante gaped at her. "For what?"

"For trying to kill me," she said.

The hunter scoffed. "I not going to apologize for something I'm not sorry for."

"Very well," Abigail stated. She looked at Nero. "I regret that I cannot honor our agreement, slayer. I'm sure you're going to be just fine under the instruction of the Great Son of Sparda. You have my luck as well as my sympathy."

Nero watched the vampire as she passed between the two men and made her way to the west door. He was appalled by the turn of events. He had hoped the two could rectify their disgruntled relationship long enough to find a way to stop whatever was going on. But it seemed both were too stubborn to do so.

"Hey," he called after the woman. "Abigail, please. Can't you just forget about your grudge long enough to help me."

She paused. "I hold no grudge," she said. "But I will offer you one piece of advice; you're going the wrong way. Enjoy your stay at Castillo Vivientes."

She gave each of them a last smile before exiting the room.

Nero turned to Dante. "That's just great," he exclaimed. "You blew off our one chance at help just to save your pride."

The hunter crossed his arms and returned the stare. "It's not about pride, kid. Abigail and I are even. If I gotta apologize, she should, too."

Nero rubbed his face with both hands, irritated that they were once more back where they had started. If Abigail was right and they were going the wrong way, then that meant Dastan was hiding somewhere in the labyrinth below. It would take he and Dante hours to navigate the catacombs. Not to mention the blonde leech was lurking somewhere in the castle, which only made a bad situation worse.

The youth leaned against the wall and looked down his nose at Dante. "Why didn't you kill her?"

The hunter shrugged. "It's complicated. Don't give me that look."

Nero quickly wiped the smirk from his face. "We've got time," he said. Even though he didn't feel like they had any at all.

"I guess it’s mostly because I didn't really try to kill her the first time we met," Dante told him. "The second time...it wasn't as easy as I thought it'd be.

"I was on a job. This lady said her brother was actin' strange. I figured it'd be a simple possession. Nice, easy way to make some money. I wound up in the middle of a bunch of vampires. I didn't know that's what they were at the time, though. I still though it was some kinda demon. Abigail said she'd help me if I agreed to get rid of 'em. I didn't really trust her, but I thought what the hell. You can guess the rest."

"She was behind it all," Nero stated.

Dante nodded. "She wanted to start her own little cult but decided she didn't like all the competition. She used me to clean up her mess 'cause she didn't wanna get her hands dirty. I almost got killed more than once doin' her a favor. You know what I got out of it, kid?"

Nero shook his head, even though the question was rhetorical.

"Not a damn thing. Abigail killed the lady because she got too close. She's a poster girl for manipulation. I'm not at all sorry I tried to kill her. I'm sorry that I didn't."

Nero let the back of his head thud on the wall repeatedly. It did nothing to relieve the stress of the last few weeks, nor to give him any brilliant brainstorm about what to do next. His mind drifted to Kyrie and he hoped Lady was making good on her promise to keep the songstress safe. The possibility that he may never get back to Fortuna was too real to ignore.

"This is gonna take forever," he thought aloud.

Dante paced a few steps and gazed into the distance. "I told you if you came up with a good plan, I'd go along with it," he said.

Nero scoffed. At present, it would take a miracle for him to be able to come up with anything.

The hunter turned to him with a determined expression of dread. "You're gonna owe me for this," he said.

Nero glanced at Dante with confusion as the other man stomped toward the west door and threw it open. The youth pushed himself away from the wall and hurried after his friend. Dante didn't slow until he had caught up with Abigail halfway down the hallway. The vampire turned as he called out her name and arched her brow at the red clad man.

Dante struggled with the words before finally managing to say what she wanted to hear. "I'm sorry."

Abigail's face became a mask of satisfied triumph. She smiled at Dante for a long time before giving a content sigh. "I can only imagine the torture you must be feeling, half breed."

The hunter sneered at her. "Enjoy it while you can, leech. I can promise you'll never hear those words from me again."

Nero heard the contempt in Dante's voice and wished Abigail weren’t taking so much pleasure in his suffering. He came closer to hating the vampiress at that moment then he thought he ever could. The youth knew the next time the hunter got a chance to kill the blood sucker, he would show her no mercy. Nero couldn't blame him. But he hoped he wouldn't have to witness it.


	14. Chapter 14

Dante was finally able to pull his gaze from the vampire and stood facing away from both her and Nero. The youth noticed the tension in the other man's body, along with how his right hand had left his hip and hid beneath the rear folds of his red trench coat. Nero wasn't sure what kept his friend from drawing Ivory and shooting Abigail in the head. The bullet would not kill her, so he needn't worry about that. It would, however, anger her to the point that his forced apology would have been in vain.

"You got what you wanted," the hunter said in a tight voice. "Now tell us what you know."

Abigail studied him with a patient gaze. "Why the hurry, devil spawn?"

Dante rounded on her and pointed an accusing finger in her face. "Listen, leech," he yelled, "I'm not playin' anymore of your games. So you can either tell me what's in that twisted little head of yours, or I'll cut it open and dig for the information with my bare hands."

Nero took a step back. He had never seen Dante so furious. The normally flippant attitude had progressed to a level of rage one savored for only the vilest of creatures. Had it been the youth that felt such immense hatred, the elusive call of whatever power resided within him would have been too tempting to deny. Yet, despite the yelling and glowering, Dante was controlling himself beyond measure.

Abigail watched the half demon impassively for a long time. Dante allowed the vampire time to process the threat, thus emphasizing its seriousness. The woman studied him with her head tilted, her form completely relaxed in unconcerned indifference.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have your father's temper?" she asked in a smooth voice.

Dante jerked at her words and a vast majority of his ire faded. He considered her inquiry then shook his head slowly. "You'd be the first," he said.

Abigail smiled. "It's almost...cute how much you're like him."

The hunter frowned deeply at this and Nero's eyes widened.

"You knew Sparda?" he expressed in disbelief.

"Not exactly," she replied. "To say that I _knew_ the Legendary Dark Knight would imply that we conversed on a somewhat regular basis. True understanding of a person can only be obtained after spending years in one's company – if it's ever achieved. But if you’re asking if I actually came face to face with the Savior of Mankind, then the answer is yes."

Nero laughed nervously. "That's...I – how old are you?"

Abigail portrayed uncharacteristic surprise at the question. "I beg your pardon?"

Nero was amused that he had so easily stumped the vampire. She remained unmoved by treats or situations of distress, but the prospect of revealing her age seemed to startle her. He couldn't help but think it was such a typical response for a woman that he momentarily forgot she was an immortal monster.

He repeated the question.

The vampiress was prepared this time and gave him a sly grin. "How old do I look?" she countered.

"That's not fair," Nero groaned. "I know you gotta be older than nineteen."

Abigail appeared offended. "I was sixteen when I was changed, thank you"

"Sixteen?" Dante mimicked, eying her critically. "You're kiddin', right?"

Abigail glanced at him then at her figure. She waved the statement away. "I believe we have more important matters to discuss than my age," she said. "Would you prefer to talk standing in the corridor? Or would you rather find a place to relax while I tell you what I know about the self-proclaimed Vampire Master?"

"Relax," both men agreed at the same time.

The woman nodded. Turning her back to Dante and Nero, she proceeded to lead them to a large door at the end of the hallway.

"Hey, Nero," Dante whispered as they walked. "You're new to this, maybe I've known her too long to judge fairly. Do you think she looks sixteen?"

Nero glanced over at the hunter. "Maybe," he whispered back. "Why? Would that make you a pedophile?"

Dante shook his head. "Get your mind outta the gutter," he returned. "And no, it wouldn't. She's not really sixteen. Besides, I'm not interested in her."

Nero avoided looking at the other man and felt a seed of unexpected relief at the admission. "Good," he murmured.

The youth was aware of the sideways glances the hunter continued to shoot him as they walked. But he ignored every one of them. Nero could rationalize that it was only pheromones that induced his slight affection for Abigail, but he still couldn't explain why her touch hadn't affected him the way he would have liked for it to. Nor did her scent overpower his reasoning the way all the other blood suckers had. Other than the fact that her appearance was pleasing, there was no reason for him to feel attracted to Abigail at all.

Besides, he loved Kyrie. She was his girlfriend, and she was the woman he had chosen to spend his life with. Kyrie loved him, too. There had been a bond between them, and he had-

The youth suddenly realized that he was thinking of his relationship with Kyrie in past terms. He shook his head to clear it and reminded himself that he cared for Kyrie with all his heart and soul. That would never change. His choice was made, and he wouldn't let himself destroy something real for a false temptation.

The room Abigail showed them to was the master suite of the palace. It was grand and decorated with only the finest furniture – or what had once been the finest. During the years of abandonment, the nobility of everything had depreciated. The fabrics were tattered and musky and the light woods stained with age. However, even in its timeworn state, no dust had collected on any of the surfaces. Nero had noticed the same neatness in all the rooms. With the exception of the kitchen, of course.

"Why is it so clean here?" he asked Abigail.

"Vampires have sensitive smelling capabilities," she told him. "Dust is offensive to the nose. Therefore, we avoid allowing it to collect."

Dante went to one of the large armchairs near the fireplace and sat down, propping his feet on an ottoman. He stared at the portrait of a scenic landscape that hung over the mantle. "Guess that's how the garlic myth got started," he stated.

Nero began to sit in the only other seat across from Dante before remembering his manners and offering it to Abigail. She shook her head and went to stand next to the fireplace. The youth reluctantly sat and shifted to where he could look at her.

"Yes," she responded to Dante. "But it's not only garlic that's repulsive. There are also certain types of cheeses, cleansers, exhaust fumes, fish, onions, colognes, and perfumes. Not to mention booze." She directed her eyes to the hunter. "Jack Daniels."

Dante smiled. "That's impressive. I haven't even had a drink in a few days."

"But you do so frequently," Abigail contested. "You always have that scent."

The hunter stared at the painting again. "At least I don't smell like a two-dollar whore," he remarked.

Nero frowned at him. The youth didn't consider Abigail's fragrance unpleasant and he had assumed that Dante didn't either. None of the blood suckers really stank. Though, there was the scent of death about them, it wasn't exactly bad. The chemical aphrodisiac they emitted far outweighed the repugnant odor of the undead.

Abigail giggled and didn't reply to the snark. "What do you want to know about Dastan?" she asked.

"Whatever you can tell me that will help me kick his ass," Dante said.

"In terms of warfare," Abigail began, "he's a brilliant strategist. But he's conniving and underhanded. He never enters combat unless he's sure he can win. And he'll use whatever means necessary to triumph."

Dante watched the vampire. "So he fights dirty. I'm used to that."

"If you make the mistake of thinking Dastan underestimates humanity the way Mundus did, you won't last ten seconds."

Dante glared at her.

"Mundus?" Nero questioned. He had heard the name. It was associated with Sparda, but the youth had never really paid that much attention to the teachings of The Order of The Sword. The only past events that concerned him were the ones that pertained to him specifically.

"He was the former emperor of the underworld," Abigail told him. "I'm sure you've heard the story of how your Savior defeated him."

Nero shrugged. "Probably," he said. "When I was a kid. I quit listenin' in mass a long time ago."

Abigail considered his confession then nodded. "I suppose it would be odd for you to worship a relative."

"What make you so sure I'm even related to Sparda?" Nero asked her.

She gave him a smile that refused to reveal any of her secrets, then continued her speech. "Dastan is aware that humans are capable of accomplishing miraculous feats. I would think he has more in mind than using simple brute force to conquer the human realm."

"That's what he wants?" Nero bemused. "To conquer humans? Why?"

"So that all of mankind will accept vampires the way Constantine does," Abigail explained. "It's not a task he can complete overnight. Nor is it one he can undertake slowly. It would be unwise to attempt to overpower only one city at a time. He has to attack on all fronts, but at the same time have an unbreakable defense. To gain total control, Dastan must ensure that he has the forces to stay all opposition without either side suffering too many casualties."

"He's building an army," Dante stated.

"In part," Abigail agreed. "But he has to be careful in recruiting. There's a delicate ratio he cannot afford to unbalance."

Dante chuckled. "That's a nice way of saying he's gotta conserve the food supply."

Abigail nodded. "Do you have any idea how long he's been planning this?"

Nero didn't like the thought of a centuries old being taking decades to plot a revolution. The best fought wars took years choreograph. Still the generals had to face the dilemma of unforeseeable obstacles. Given more time, any of those same commanders would be able to better prepare for such circumstances. Thus making their victory inevitable, even if they did have difficulty achieving it. With a basic infinity to formulate the perfect course of action, any force would be virtually unstoppable.

Dante looked at Abigail. For once all the animosity had left his face and was replaced with curiosity. "Why do you want to stop him?" he asked.

It was a fair question. As a vampire, one would think Abigail would be elated for a chance to live anywhere in the world without having to hide what she was. Without the fear and loathing from the humans, who reacted with closed minded violence to anything not within their ability to comprehend, she could feel normal.

"Because forced loyalty is false loyalty," she answered honestly. "Everyone deserves the freedom of choice."

Nero would have bet his life that the emotion in the vampire's voice was sadness. He was empathetic and felt the desire to comfort Abigail. Yet, he couldn't seem to break the stare that her heartfelt sentiment had produced.


	15. Chapter 15

Nero sat in the chair, lost in thought. He idly stroked the uneven surface of his right hand with the fingers of his left. He marveled at how strange it was to have such an unorthodox gift. He most certainly considered his demonic arm a gift. It had helped him defeat countless enemies. It housed Yamato. And it had given him the innate ability to sense things. Anything that pertained to the underworld was easily recognizable to the young knight. It was as if the bringer acted as a medium for extrasensory perception when dealing with devils. He was able to distinguish them from humans. It wasn't always easy. The youth had had to learn to read these signals. Within the last year, he had taught himself to decipher the messages that his demon side sent him with little to no error in translation.

Though it wasn't nearly as strong, Nero was also able to sense the blood suckers. Since arriving in Constantine, the devil hand had went haywire with its instant urges. And upon entering Castillo Vivientes, those pleas had grown stronger.

Nero knew it had something to do with that strange tower. He couldn't say how he knew this, just that he did. The tower seemed to cry out to him. Not just with one voice, but with a legion of them. He had thought that had something to do with the vampires, but now he wasn't sure. After spending time with Abigail, he could detect her presence. And it wasn't the same as whatever entity hid in the central fortification. He doubted it was Dastan. But if it was, the Vampire Lord was not alone. It was an unsettling thought and the uncertainty of what his devil instincts were striving to tell him made it even more so.

Nero jerked his head up to look at Dante as he realized that the hunter was calling him. Not by name, of course, but by the nickname that the elder man had christened the young man with.

"Huh?" the boy sounded.

Dante watched him curiously. Nero got the impression that the man had been trying to get his attention for a few minutes and adverted his eyes.

"What are you thinkin' so hard about?"

Nero struggled to come up with a suitable reply. "I was just...wondering why Dastan waited so long to do this," he said slowly.

The hunter didn't look convinced, but he accepted the lie without comment. He looked at Abigail for an answer. She crossed her arms and met Nero's gaze. Embarrassment washed over him at being the center of her attention. He had never really looked into her eyes before and he felt like she could see inside his mind. Nevertheless, he didn't look away.

"He had to ensure all the pieces were in place," she said. "And he wanted to be certain that Sparda wouldn't return."

Dante gave a dry laugh. "He was afraid of Sparda?"

Nero was crestfallen as Abigail looked away from him.

"Not afraid," she told Dante. "Sparda's presence would have put a damper on Dastan's plans. He was a beacon of hope for the humans. As long as he was alive, they had confidence. And – as I'm sure you know – confidence plays as much a part in winning a war as weapons. Humanity would never fall as long as Sparda was around to raise morale."

The hunter huffed and sunk deeper in his seat. He fiddled with the skull on Rebellion as he thought.

"I know how much you love yourself, half breed," Abigail said. "So I'll do your ego one favor by saying that Dastan is almost as worried about you as he was your father."

Dante grinned. "What makes you think that?"

"I know Dastan," Abigail replied. "Gossip spreads like wildfire. You are moderately famous in your own rites. Dastan would be foolish not to fear you."

Dante narrowed his eyes and studied her. "You know, that almost sounded like a compliment."

"It wasn't," Abigail said. "I was only stating the danger of underestimating your opponent."

"Why haven't you ever been scared of me then?" Dante asked her.

"You've never given me cause to fear you," Abigail said with a smile.

On the whole, Dante was not a scary person. Humans feared him because they didn't understand him. Demons feared him because of his reputation. But, even though the hunter had tried to kill Abigail, Nero knew that something had held him back. He didn't think it was lack of confidence. That was unlike Dante. Yet, despite his efforts, Abigail took his threats in stride. Maybe because she was used to them.

Nero chuckled. The others looked at him. "Sorry. Just find it ironic that you would think Abigail would be scared of you," he told Dante.

The hunter shrugged. "Yeah, well, she's not afraid of dyin' like most leeches."

"Why?" Nero asked turning to Abigail.

"The value of life depreciates with time," she answered. "Much as everything else does. Besides, I see no reason to fear something I've already experienced. As long as I have life, I'll embrace it. If I face death, I'll welcome it."

Nero nodded slowly. "I guess that makes sense..."

"Speaking of death," Abigail stated, "I have a task to complete. And the two of you still need to locate the sanctum. This is where we part company. See you around, boys."

She pushed herself away from the wall and turned toward the fireplace.

"That's it?" Nero asked.

Abigail looked over her shoulder at him. "Yes."

"But I thought..."

The youth faltered as she turned to face him. Her amber eyes bore into his expectantly. Nero didn't know what he had thought or what he was going to say. He had hoped Abigail would have been able to give them more information. There were still so many uncertainties. Not to mention, they still had the tedious job of locating the Vampire Master somewhere within the bowels of the fortress.

Nero glanced at Dante. The elder man waved the stare off. "Don't look at me, kid. This is your party."

The youth scoffed. He was not surprised to see the hunter give up the reigns so easily. Dante wouldn't ask Abigail for help a second time. Not even if his life depended on it – which it basically did at this point. Maybe not life so much as success, but still, Dante was resolved to not taking back his lead where the vampiress was concerned.

Nero turned back to Abigail. "If we're all going the same way, why don't we go together?"

He heard Dante sigh in annoyance but ignored him. It was worth a shot. Nero was anxious to get this done and escape the pull of the multitude of voices that whispered to him endlessly. Having a vampire on their side could be an advantage. And, deep down, the youth wanted to spend more time with Abigail. He felt comfortable with her.

Abigail smiled. "Are you suggesting an alliance? Or do you need a guide?"

Nero concentrated on his boots. "Both."

"Very well," Abigail said, surprising him. Nero gaped at her. She shrugged. "I admire that you're not afraid to admit when you're lost. It's an uncommon trait for a man."

Nero smiled. "Since we're gender stereotyping, you could lie about your age."

Abigail arched her brow in surprise. She was quiet for a long time. "Forty-one," she said. "That's the last two digits. Now may we please drop the issue of my age?"

Nero wondered if that meant Abigail was one hundred and forty-one of one thousand and forty-one. Either way, it was staggering. Even if she were truly the age she had given him, that would make her more than twice his own number of years. It was odd to think of her as old when she looked so young.

Dante stood up and put Rebellion on his back. "Now that it's settled, let’s get started," he said unenthusiastically.

Nero got to his feet. He watched Abigail as she turned back to the fireplace, lost in thought. He hated to rush her, but they were in a bit of a hurry.

"Abigail?" he called. "Don't we need to be goin'?"

She ignored him and put her hand on the ornate design of a flower that decorated the mantle. At her touch, there was the loud grinding of stone and the entire hearth lowered into the floor. Nero stared at the revealed passage.

"By all means," Abigail said, looking back at him. She grinned and gestured to the new entrance.

Dante came to stand beside Nero. He looked at the youth with unsurprised acceptance. "Always hidden passages in castles," he mused. He held a hand out to Abigail. "Ladies first."

She gauged his expression. "That's uncharacteristically polite of you," she stated. "I suppose you have an ulterior motive for acting the gentleman."

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "you're the one that knows where to go."

"Even you can't get lost on a strait path, half breed," Abigail retorted.

Nero noted the agitated stare the hunter gave her. He knew both of them would continue until the callous banter escalated into a conflict, and he had no desire to witness another outburst. The youth approached the opening and peered through. It was dim and a stale, chill air drifted to his nostrils. There were stairs leading down, but no turns that he could see.

"I'll go first," he announced, stepping through. He threw a glance at the other two. "You guys can argue or you can follow me. I don't care who goes next."

It was quiet as Nero began to descend the stairs. The silence satisfied him. He looked back to see Abigail walking assuredly behind him and Dante obstinately taking up the rear. He grinned at the displeasure on the hunter's face.

Judging by the number of steps, the hidden stairwell led from the second story all the way to the basement. There it ended and Nero stood facing a blank, stone wall. He squinted in the darkness trying to make out some sort of latch or lever that would grant them entry to the room beyond. He was unable to find anything, so he turned to give Abigail an inquisitive look.

"Do I need to break the wall?" he asked.

Abigail laughed. "No. The latch is well hidden. Would you like me to find it?"

Nero nodded. "Please."

The passage was narrow, therefore Nero was forced to stand against the wall to allow Abigail access to the dead end. As much as she tried to avoid any physical contact, her hand still brushed his as she passed. Nero frowned as he once again felt next to nothing at the touch.

As Abigail inspected the wall, Nero noticed that her fragrance was stronger in the confined area. He had never really paid that much attention to it before. But, now that he did, he found himself comforted by vague memories of his childhood. The soft scent of roses gave the young man a nostalgic sense of peace that he hadn't felt since adolescence. The simple life of childhood that flooded Nero's mind made him smile. He leaned closer to her and lost himself in the bliss of forgetfulness. The troubles of the last year melted away and all that remained was the unscathed reminiscence of innocence.

The grinding of gears brought the youth out of his revelry. He cleared his head and straitened his posture as the wall receded into a notch to the left. Nero glance at Dante, hoping that the hunter hadn't noticed his odd behavior. If he did, he didn't show it. The older man was staring back the way they had come with his jaw clinched in aggravation. Nero wondered if the vampire's smell gave the other man any memories and what they might be. If Dante's expression was anything to judge by, the recollections were not exactly happy ones.

Abigail exited the passage with Nero and Dante behind her. The trio emerged into the vast maze of tunnels that formed the palace dungeon. Nero sighed and felt glad to have Abigail to lead them. She knew the way and it would save them hours of precious time.

The room they stood in was dark and dank, much like the rest of it's kindred. Nero couldn't tell if it was one he and Abigail had been to on their trek upward, or if it was a completely different part of the basement. He readjusted Red Queen on his back and prepared for what he hoped would be the final stage of his journey. The thought both gladdened and dismayed him. Though, the youth was anxious to be done with the blood suckers, he was loath to part with Abigail. Nero doubted he would ever see her again after this ordeal – if he survived, that is.

He wasn't prepared for how much that though pained him. In spite of her precarious nature, Nero considered Abigail his friend. Even though they hadn't spent much time together, he felt something for her. He wasn't sure exactly what, but he wanted a chance to find out.

"Okay, leech," Dante said, breaking into Nero's pondering. "Lead the way. I wanna get this done already. I got better things to do than stare at your ass."

Abigail threw him a disgruntled glare. "Trust me, half breed, I'm not enjoying your company any more than you are mine."

She took a few steps, then turned back to smile at the hunter. "Staring at my ass is a choice," she said. "You're free to direct your gaze anywhere, so why are you looking at me?"

Dante pointedly rolled his eyes away from Abigail. He didn't bother to respond.

Nero smirked at the hunter. "Thought you weren't interested," he chided in a low voice.

"I'm not," Dante returned. "But I am a man. I tend to notice things, even if I don't want 'em."

Nero shook his head and followed after Abigail. Dante once again took position at the end of the line as they delved deeper into the ancient catacombs.


	16. Chapter 16

The trio only managed to move through a few rooms before Abigail brought them to a halt. She stood still with her body rigid in anger. The vampiress' brow knit and she sneered as her eyes looked at the darkened doorway straight ahead.

Nero wasn't sure what had caused her sudden change in mood. He reached out to touch her shoulder but was stopped by Dante. The hunter gave him a curious look and shook his head.

"I dislike uninvited company," Abigail warned.

Nero opened his mouth to remind her that she had agreed to lead them, but a new voice replied making the youth sneer and draw his pistol.

"That's odd," said the blonde blood sucker that appeared in the arch. Her eyes fell on Dante and Nero and she gave a look of disgust. "Considering you're escorting a duo of demons."

Abigail regarded the newcomer. Her body relaxed as she peered down her nose at the blonde. "Your intuition must be of no use at all if you can't tell the difference between a demon and a human," she said. "It's a wonder you haven't been poisoned yet."

The blonde glanced at the other woman with offense. Her eyes studied the fellow vampire intently. "You must be Abigail," she said with distaste.

Abigail gave her a grin of acquiescence. "You must be Dastan's current concubine."

The blonde looked appalled that Abigail had referred to her master by name and insulted at what she had called her. "I'm his partner," she corrected in a tight voice. "Jainaya."

Abigail chuckled. "You're even more naive than I thought," she said. "Is that because you're so young? Or are you just stupid?"

Jainaya glared at her. Her eyes flashed red and a snarl escaped her throat. Nero pulled back the hammer on Blue Rose. All eyes turned to him. Each individual had a different expression on their face; Dante looked disappointed, Abigail stern, and Jainaya interested.

"Back off, kid," Dante told the youth. "Let the ladies handle their disagreement themselves."

Jainaya smiled at the hunter. "The famous Son of Sparda," she mused. "This is certainly convenient." She looked at Abigail. "The Master said you were infatuated with half breeds. I have to admit, I see the appeal. This one looks like he'd be much more fun than the other one. But, then, he is alive."

Nero had initially thought that Jainaya was referring to himself, but the last comment confused him. The last he checked, he was most certainly still among the living. He frowned and looked at Dante. The man was staring at Jainaya with pained hatred.

"If you're lookin' for fun," he said, "I won't disappoint you." He unsheathed Rebellion and drove the tip into the stone floor. He leaned on the hilt and glared at the blonde leech mockingly.

Jainaya pointed her gaze back to Abigail. She smiled wickedly at the other woman. "I can't wait for you to see what The Master has in store for you, Abigail."

Abigail put her hands on her hips. "I'm flattered that you remember my name," she said with a sweet smile. "Yours is so insignificant that I've already forgotten it."

Jainaya's brow creased. It was the last conscious expression she managed before her face was contorted in excruciating pain. Nero stared at Abigail. He hadn't even noticed the woman draw her strange whip. The speed with which the vampiress acted was too great for his eyes to register.

Jainaya went to her knees. She clawed at the coils around her neck. Nero noticed that the ends of the weapon were fitted with large hooks, each one embedded in Jainaya's throat. The more the woman struggled, the tighter the tendrils wound. Dark blood dripped from the four deep lacerations. The vampire stared up at Abigail

"...please!" she gasped.

Abigail frowned at her. "Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound when you beg?" she inquired flatly. "It's exceedingly annoying."

Nero grimaced as Abigail twisted her wrist in a slight movement that delivered the final cut. Jainaya's head was severed from her shoulders and rolled to the other woman's feet. Deep red liquid seeped from the jagged opening and pooled on the masonry tiles. Abigail nudged the undesirable object away with her toe and flicked her whip to remove any residue. It cracked the air, causing Nero to flinch. He stared at his companion with morbid fascination.

Abigail returned her weapon to the clip on her belt and looked at the men impassively. She frowned at the young knight. "Is something wrong, Nero?"

The youth shook his head erratically. He couldn't tell Abigail that what she'd done had repulsed him. It wasn't that she had killed Jainaya, he was glad that the blonde was finally dead. But the heartless way that Abigail had gone about the execution made him view her in a different light. She had so carelessly murdered one of her own with a serenity that almost sickened him. He had never thought of her as a killer before now. Having seen that side of her, the youth was powerless to unsee it.

Nero jerked his head up to look at her as a realization dawned on him. "What did you say?"

"I asked you if anything was wrong," Abigail said. "You look startled."

"No," he told her. "You said Nero."

Abigail seemed to replay the conversation in her head, then nodded. "Yes, I did."

Dante moved himself between the two of them and looked from one to the other. "Don't look like you're freakin' out much," he said to Nero. "Was that a first?"

Nero shook his head. He gestured to the remains of Jainaya on the floor. "She said my name once. But it was different."

Dante's brow wrinkled. "Whaddyou mean 'different'?"

Nero shrugged. He really didn't know how to explain it. When Jainaya had used his name, Nero had felt the urge to obey. Yet, he didn't get that from Abigail. He felt something, though. A sort of openness that he had never experienced before. But it was in no way commanding.

Getting no explanation from the youth, Dante turned to Abigail. Her demeanor betrayed nothing, which only made his more curious. "You're not losing your power, are you?" he asked.

"I don’t think so," she replied. "What do you think, Dante?"

The hunter frowned. It was obvious he bore the weight of the power Abigail harbored. "You wanna tell me how you're doin' that?"

Abigail shrugged. "I'm not sure what you're talking aboutI have no explanation as to why it's 'different' for the young slayer than it is for you. I am not able to control my abilities to that extent."

"Can you control them at all?" Nero asked her.

Abigail tossed a lock of auburn hair over her shoulder. "I can occasionally fluctuate the amount of pheromones I produce."

Dante eyed her. One corner of his lip turned down. "Are you doin' that right now?"

Abigail looked impressed with his observation. "I am actually," she admitted. "I'm suppressing the chemicals as much as I can so that I won't distract either of you."

For some reason, it made Nero feel better to know why he felt no real attraction to her. The youth thought it was kind of her to go to such measures for his sake. He took the kind gesture personally as he doubted that she would go to such extremes for Dante, even if she had included him in her admission.

"Alright then," the hunter said. He let his blue eyes scan the room. He paused at each of the four doors. "You sure you know where you're goin'?"

Abigail nodded. "Absolutely. I may have stretched the truth about how confusing the dungeon can be. It's really not that difficult to navigate."

Nero stared at her.

She gave him a coy smile. "I apologize for the deception. Since we were already down here, I thought I'd take a quick look around before leading you back upstairs."

"Four hours is 'a quick look'?" he exclaimed.

"Don't misunderstand me," Abigail explained. "The catacombs are rather large but keeping to the left will always ensure you find your way to the exit. The entrance to the sanctum is masterfully hidden. I've never actually used this one, so I needed to search for it. Now that I know where it is, we can head there without delay."

"What do you mean this one?" Dante asked. "Is there more than one entrance to the sanctum – whatever that is?"

The woman looked away from them. "Yes. But the others are sealed. Dastan didn't intend to make this easy."

Nero gazed at her. Abigail's expression was determined. She wanted very much to exact some kind of revenge on her former master, but her reasons were unclear. The youth wondered what the Vampire Lord had done to hurt her. It was more than just broken-hearted wrath. There was something much deeper in her eyes. Nero had a guess as to what it was.

"Is he the one who..." The youth wasn't sure how to phrase the question in an appropriate way. He wasn't at all familiar with the etiquette of the vampires. "...made you?" he finished quietly.

Abigail looked at him. "Yes," she said simply.

Dante let out a loud huff. "Now I know where you learned it all," he said, looking at her. The mockery in his face was at a minimum for a change.

"Yes," she repeated with an uneasy grin.

The group remained quiet for a little while. Though it was important that they not delay any more than necessary, no one suggested leaving right away. Jainaya's corpse lay forgotten and ignored by the central door. Blood had stopped pooling and trickled into the cracks of the floor, staining the mortar black.

Abigail was the one who broke the comfortable silence. "The sanctum is the real home of the vampires," she said. "The upper castle is a front; a decoy. The heart of Castillo Vivientes lies below the palace. That's where Dastan is."

She moved with fluid patience to the middle doorway and easily stepped over Jainaya's form. "The entrance is this way."

Nero glanced at Dante. The hunter shrugged. Neither knew what to say about the new information. The older man jerked his head toward the path Abigail had taken, indicating for Nero to go first. They exited the area in the same order that they had entered. The only difference was that now they knew where they were going. Though they still had no idea of what to expect once they got there.


	17. Chapter 17

After two more rooms of maintaining the same direction, Dante, Nero, and Abigail were forced to either stop or choose a different path. The last room had only three doorways; the one they had come through, the one on the right, and the one on the left. Nero looked around. He didn't recognize this room as being different from the others, save the fact that it had three exits, not four. Yet, the youth got the feeling he had been here before.

"Were we here earlier?" he asked his vampire companion.

Abigail nodded and knelt to inspect the floor. "We were," she confirmed. She ran her hand over the cracks in the stone floor. "That's how I know this is where the entrance to the sanctum is located."

As she spoke, Abigail dug her fingers in between two of the large rocks. With seemingly no effort, she pulled back a well-hidden hatch. Nero hid his awe. The opening blended so perfectly with the floor that he never would have known of its existence otherwise.

Dante approached the recess and got on his knees beside Abigail. He peeked inside, then gave the woman a diluted grin. "Not bad," the hunter said. "Bet I coulda found it on my own, though."

The comment went ignored by everyone else.

With a huff, Dante sat down and let his legs dangle through the opening. He hopped down and Nero heard a thud as the hunter landed on the floor below. He glanced at Abigail. He felt abashed at being alone with her once more. Though it wasn't the privacy he wished it could be, he savored the moment.

"You can go next," he offered.

Abigail gave him a kind smile and lowered herself through the hatch.

Now that Nero was basically alone in the basement, he frowned to himself. His demonic arm was giving off a light glow and he looked at it with confusion. Turning it this way and that, the youth struggled to decipher the message it was continuously sending. The faint call of a million echoes beckoned him, but the young man had no clue what they were saying. Sadness and longing were the only emotions he could detect, but they made no sense.

"What are you tryin' to tell me?" he whispered in vain.

The devil claw gave him no further explanation for its odd behavior.

Dante's voice drifted up to Nero from the space below. "You comin', kid?"

The youth abandoned his attempt at understanding and lowered his arm back to his side.

"Yeah," he called back, approaching the opening. As he glanced down, he could see an adequately lit room with ornate wood flooring.

Nero hopped over the edge and emerged in a luxurious living area that was hidden below the drab upper portion of Castillo Vivientes. It was apparent that the secret home was well tended. The elegant furniture was in pristine condition, the dark rugs and paneling perfectly matched in harmony and cleanliness. The bookshelves housed ancient tomes in a variety of languages, but – despite their obvious age – showed little sign of wear.

Nero looked around in astonishment at the beautiful quarters. The care and delicacy given to the room's design showed in every detail. It must have taken years for the blood suckers to construct such a place. It was an astonishing accomplishment. And that they had done it right under the noses of the residents of Constantine without their knowing, made it even more impressive.

Dante gave a satisfied grunt as the youth emerged from the hatch unharmed and began to roam the room. He eyed the décor with disinterest, but his own bewilderment was apparent.

"This isn't what I expected," he said at last.

Abigail was leaning on a table that sat against the left wall. She bore the air of personal familiarity so well it almost shamed Nero for his intrusion. This had once been her home. She had countless memories here – more than the youth could ever guess. Nero felt as though he had no right to see her in such intimate surroundings.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said to Dante.

The hunter stopped in the middle of the room and turned to her. "It just seems a little too...normal for leeches."

Abigail's expression hardened. "By that, one could assume that the den of a half breed would qualify as 'normal'," she returned. "That's a bit of a contradiction, isn't it?"

Dante scoffed. "I'm more human than you are," he countered. "I don't go around killing innocent people."

"And who are you to judge who is innocent?" Abigail asked, crossing her arms. "Everyone is guilty of some wrong. Yourself included half breed."

The hunter glared at her. "Don't twist reality to make excuses for what you do, leech."

"It's not a twist," Abigail told him. Her voice was still calm, but her muscles were tight. "Humans claim to be righteous by justifying their transgressions as ignorant mistakes. But that does not change the fact that they have sinned. Everyone has their own view of morality. Wrong to one is right to another. That in mind, who holds the power to grant clemency or condemn the accused, Dante?"

Nero knew the argument was escalating to a point beyond rectification. He hoped Dante would let the demand slide, but he knew the hunter was too mad to do that. The youth wanted to intervene but did not want to be caught in the crossfire.

"Abigail..."

The plea was ignored. The vampire had effectively silenced Dante long enough to finish her verbal assault. "You, high and mighty Son of Sparda, are no better than anyone else. No matter the number of demons you slay, you can't absolve your own mistakes. The fact that you defeated Mundus doesn't absolve you for murdering your brother."

Nero started. Dante growled at the vampire. The youth made an attempt to move, but his legs were unwilling to take orders from his brain. He watched as the older man drew his gun and fired at Abigail's head. Not just once, but repeatedly. Until Ivory's chamber was empty.

Abigail deftly dodged every projectile, but not the sword that swung at her neck. She stared at Dante as he held Rebellion to her throat. She didn't appear afraid, but nor did she seem indifferent. Her features were expressionless and her eyes blank.

Nero wasn't sure what had stopped his friend from beheading her. Perhaps his rage had dissipated with each bullet and he was able to see reason once more. Or maybe the fact that Abigail didn't resist him caused the hunter to falter.

"Never," Dante spat at her, "mention my brother again, leech!"

Abigail blinked once. The half human took this as acknowledgment and removed his blade from its lethal caress on her skin. Placing the sword on his back, Dante stomped toward the only door and kicked it open. He left the room. The door fanned softly to a close behind him.

Nero stared at the exit for a long moment, then walked over to Abigail. She hadn't moved since the hunter's threat. The youth could see a healing cut where Rebellion had been.

"Why did you do that?" he asked her.

Abigail slowly met his gaze. Her brow was wrinkled in confusion. Nero had never seen her look unsure before. He didn't know how to respond.

"I don't need to justify myself to anyone," she said quietly.

The youth wasn't sure if she was referring to his inquiry or if her mind was still on the conversation between her and the devil hunter. Either way, she was in no mood to speak more and went back to silently staring at the opposite wall.

Nero sighed and left the room to go find Dante. The exit from the sitting room was an entrance to a long corridor with doors on both sides and each end. The hunter was not in the hallway. The youth paced to the first door on his right but stopped with his hand on the knob. He looked at his demon arm. Its glow had intensified.

Scrunching up his face, Nero strove to understand what the appendage was saying. His eyes were drawn to the door at the other end of the hallway. It was plain oak, no design or engraving. Nero felt an affirmation from his demonic senses and hesitantly approached the portal. He paused outside the room. The whispers became stronger and Nero could feel the pull of Yamato among the clamor. Vibrant images of distress and imprisonment assaulted his mind.

Nero tried to reason with himself. It wasn't wise to go wondering alone in unfamiliar territory. Especially when he had no idea what was beyond the entrance. He should turn back and find Dante and Abigail. Surly the vampiress would be able to tell him what was on the other side of the door, and whether or not it was dangerous to enter.

Yet, for all his misgivings, Nero couldn't stop himself from turning the handle and slowly pushing the door open. He gasped as the room was revealed. The interior was made of dark stone, just like that of the central tower. Nero knew without a doubt this was the inlet to the fortification. The sensation was similar to what he had felt when gazing at it from the castle grounds, but a million times stronger. Even with no lights, the chamber was lit. Illumination came from the thousands of orbs that floated in the massive space between the floor and the ceiling above.

Nero stared at the glowing spheres. Though he didn't know what they were, he could sense that they were alive – or at least cognitive. The images of their thoughts were what had been plaguing the youth since he had arrived in Constantine.

He walked into the room, not thinking to close the door behind him. He paused before one of the things that hung at eye level. As Nero watched, the bright white glow softened to a pale yellow. Memories of a life not his own filled the youth with all the emotions that accompanied each situation. The simplicity of childhood, the struggles of adolescence, the fears of adulthood and finally the tragedy of an untimely death were replayed in a few seconds. Nero reached out to touch the being but drew his hand back as the color changed once again to an intense white.

Pulling himself away, Nero traversed deeper into the strange keep. He felt the memories of other orbs as he passed but didn't stop. Not until he reached the base of a large dais at the rooms center. Three stairs led up to the throne perched atop the pedestal. The youth’s eyes followed them, and he gaped at the figure who sat on the chair. He constituted all his energy to feeling the memories of the man he knew but had never met. The youth was overcome with anguish at the powerful presence. The feelings of tragedy, loss, remorse, guilt, failure, and hopelessness were enough to make his eyes burn with unbidden tears.

That Nero knew a small portion of the story heightened his empathy. He ascended the stairs and stood in front of the man. He stared at the blank blue eyes and the mass of swept back white hair thinking that Dante really didn't look that much like his twin brother. There were similarities in the features. The nose, the high cheekbones, the face shape, and chin both brothers shared. But in every other way, the Sons of Sparda were opposite. Even the eyes looked different. The color was the same, but the way they bore them was completely unalike.

Nero frowned. He felt like he should say or do something. Though he had not known Vergil, he owed him something. If for no other reason than the youth now carried his sword, Nero owed Vergil at the least a small gesture of kindness. Taking a deep breath, Nero put his right hand to where the man's heart was. He could think of no words, so he let the touch be enough.

Before he could back away, Nero's devil bringer began to glow fervidly. Yamato cried out in longing as it was brought so close to its former master. The young knight felt weak from the tug of the devil arm and went to his knees. His claw continued to maintain its communication with the man. The youth forced himself to look up and found himself gazing into eyes the same color as his that no longer looked blank and empty, but bright and calculating. The demonic arm pulsed in a rhythm Nero realized was a heartbeat. Long fingers closed around his wrist and broke the contact between Nero's hand and Vergil's chest.

Vergil released the boy and watched him with a slightly curious expression. "What is your name?" he asked in a cool monotone.

Nero stared at him and swallowed a lump in his throat. In a shaky voice, he told the man his name.

Vergil's expression didn't change. "What is it, Nero, that gives you the uncanny ability to bring souls back from the dead?"

The youth opened his mouth but didn't speak. He had no answer to give. He was taxed from fatigue and mental strain. The realization of what he had done did nothing to ease his unsettled mind. Nero's thoughts collided and retreated without ever taking even the slightest resemblance of a rational form. The youth honestly thought he might be going insane. He knelt in stunned silence before Vergil, who waited expectantly and impatiently for an explanation.

Nero was relieved as Vergil's eyes left his. The man raised his head to glance forward and the semblance of a grin graced his features. His eyes narrowed and assumed an intriguing glint.

Nero turned and his mind snapped back to reality as he saw Abigail standing a few feet away. The multicolored orbs tinted her pale skin and highlighted her dark hair. Her large amber eyes went from Nero to Vergil, then back to Nero.

"You've awakened him," she mused in astonishment.

Nero's mind was completely blank. He looked away from Abigail. His demonic arm was no longer glowing or pulsing. In fact, it felt far weaker than it had before. The youth could still detect the presence of Yamato, but it was dormant and quiet for the first time in days. He massaged the smooth scales and wondered how he was going to explain to Dante that he had brought his twin brother back from the dead.


	18. Chapter 18

The room was deafeningly quiet as Nero made himself meet Abigail's gaze. He could still hear the cacophony of the other voices within the chamber, but they had dulled to a soft murmur that was fairly easy for the youth to tune out. Which was good. Nero was having too difficult a time collecting his own thoughts to worry with the multitude of images that had no precedence at the moment. Vergil and Abigail were both looking at him expectantly, awaiting some sort of explanation as to what had transpired. The weight of both of their stares made it even harder for the young man to concentrate. He despised being the center of attention. The only way to advert the attention from himself was to say something.

Nero took a few breaths and summoned all his courage to forming a coherent sentence. "I don't...I-I'm not..."

"Proficiently articulate," finished the smooth voice of Vergil. "That's somewhat obvious."

Nero turned to the man. His brow wrinkled in offense. Had the youth been in his usual mind state, a retort would have been issued. As it was, the comment was let slide and Vergil grinned at the young man's stupor.

After staring at Nero intently for a moment, Vergil stood and took a step toward him. "You do realize that you are in my way, don't you?" he asked, holding a hand out to the steps that the youth was blocking.

Nero looked back and did notice this. The dais was only just big enough for two people to stand on in single file. With no room to move to the side, the youth reluctantly descended the few stairs and stood next to Abigail. She followed him with her eyes, then went back to watching Vergil as he paced with deliberate steps to stand before both her and the boy.

"Greetings, Son of Sparda," Abigail said. A sly smile appeared on her features as Vergil met her eyes. "How was your stay in purgatory?"

The man huffed with indignation. "To put it in terms that a vampire can understand, purgatory was not unlike the majority of my conversations with you; pointless and boring."

Nero shifted his gaze to Abigail. If her dealing with Dante were anything to judge by, Nero expected her to retaliate with usual detached irritation. Instead she smiled at Vergil.

"As funny as ever," she mused. "The Vault of Souls carries so much torment for its captives that I feared it would change you."

Vergil watched her for a long moment. "That would put you at a disadvantage," he said. "Wouldn't it, Abigail?"

She slowly shook her head. "Not as much as you'd think, Vergil."

The man moved his eyes to Nero. He gazed at the youth critically. "I see."

Nero was confused by the exchange. He looked at each of them, but neither betrayed any understanding in their countenance or stance. He assumed that the Vault of Souls was the name of the room they stood in, but he was unsure of what form of torture was being used on the prisoners. In fact, the beings within did not seem to be held against their will at all. There was nothing binding them in place that he could see – nothing except their lack of mobility.

The youth creased his brow at Abigail. She glanced at him as if just remembering that he was present. It frustrated Nero that she had so quickly forgotten him.

"I believe the devil hunter is in the bedroom," she said. It took a second for Nero to realize that she was talking about Dante. "It would be wise if you prepared him for the surprise."

"Me?" Nero asked. He was unsure what he should say to Dante. How did one go about breaking the news to someone that they had brought that person's brother back to life? It's not something you can just come right out and say. Besides, Abigail seemed to know much more about what was going on than Nero did. Yet, her and the hunter were not on the best of terms. Especially after their little spat a few minutes earlier.

Abigail gave him a nod of confirmation. "It was you who reanimated his brother," she reminded the youth.

Nero sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vergil processing with mixed emotion the fact that Dante was at Castillo Vivientes as well. The youth dared not look at the other man. He took the discomfort as a cue to leave the room. Glancing back from the doorway, Nero saw Abigail and Vergil speaking in hushed tones. The latter's face still bore the confusion of the situation.

The second door on the left was where Nero found Dante. The hunter was seated in an armchair. Rebellion rested at his side, Ebony on his lap and Ivory twirled around his right forefinger. There was a determined glimmer of residual anger in his eyes as he looked up at the youth. It quickly faded to curiosity when he saw Nero's shocked face.

"You okay, kid?" he asked. "you look like you just seen a ghost."

Nero stopped just over the threshold and laughed humorlessly. The joke helped ease a bit of his discomfort, but he still didn't relish the idea of telling the other man that there was some truth to his statement.

Dante frowned at the response. He stopped spinning his silver gun and held it pointed at the ceiling. "You never laugh at my jokes," he said.

Nero tried to make himself maintain eye contact. It was difficult. "There's something I gotta tell you," he said.

Dante sighed loudly. "What did you do this time, Nero?"

The accusation filled Nero with an emotion he was very familiar with: anger. It made it far easier to communicate his thoughts if he could deliver them with callousness. No longer concerned with how Dante would react, the urge to retort cause Nero to speak freely.

"I brought your brother back to life," he told the hunter. All emotion had drained from his voice and he stood watching Dante with his arms crossed.

The older man looked shock at first. Then just irritated. "That's not funny."

"It's not supposed to be funny, jackass."

Dante pointed a finger at the youth and opened his mouth to speak. Whatever he was going to say died on his lips as Vergil entered the bedroom followed by Abigail. It wasn't shock that formed on Dante's face, but an odd mixture of disbelief, acceptance, and fear. His finger dropped.

"You weren't kiddin'," he mused.

Nero scoffed and shook his head.

The twins stared at each other. Vergil was impressively composed at being in the same room with the man that had killed him. He didn't even look angry, only indifferent.

"Dante," he greeted coolly.

"Hey, Vergil," the other returned. "It's been...a long time." He let his eyes scan the familiar blue attire that was unique to his brother, along with the swept back hair and stoic demeanor. "Don't look like you've changed much."

The elder studied the younger critically. "Why does that surprise you?"

Dante shrugged. "I dunno, bro. Guess I just didn't expect to see you again."

Vergil grinned. "You still haven't learned to expect the unexpected."

Dante chuckled and picked up Ebony. He stood up and strode over to where the others were standing. "You got my attention," he said to Nero. "You wanna tell me how the hell this happened?"

Nero began to say that he did not want to do that. The hunter had lectured him countless times during this endeavor, and he was in no mood to explain his actions yet again. But, Dante was his friend. No matter how much they argued, Dante did deserve to know what had happened.

"I don't even know," he said. "I found him in the Vault of Souls. I think my arm is what caused it. I just touched him and..."

There was no need to finish. The product was standing next to them.

"Vault of Souls?" Dante repeated. His expression changed and he looked at Abigail. "That's what that tower is. You didn't think it'd be important to tell me that _this_ where the leeches hid all the souls they stole?"

Abigail crossed her arms. "It's really none of your business, half breed."

"I'm makin' it my business," the hunter retorted. His grip on his twin guns tightened.

Nero was once again confused by the conversation and it only served to feed his ire. "Enough, dammit," he growled. Everyone – Vergil included – turned to him. "What's so important about that vault?"

Dante opened his mouth but was cut off by his brother.

"The Vault of Souls," Vergil explained patiently, "is the vampire's best kept secret. Most demons would pay any price to know of its location. The vampires occasionally use that as a bargaining chip to gain desired bits of information from the underworld. Though the promises are empty. The vampires never have any true intention of revealing where purgatory's missing souls are hidden."

Nero gazed at the man. "The souls in the tower are ones the blood suckers stole from purgatory," he guessed. He received a nod of affirmation and looked at Abigail. "Why?"

The woman hesitated. "It's a long story."

Nero scoffed. He acquainted that answer as an excuse not to speak. And a poor one at that. The purpose of the Vault of Souls may be vampire business, but it concerned all of them now. The youth had no intention of missing out on any more information that might somehow prove useful in the upcoming fight.

Dante's thoughts seemed to be along the same lines as Nero's. "It's not that long," he said.

Abigail glared at the hunter. "I doubt the rumors you've heard hold any truth as to the reason behind the creation of the Vault."

Dante returned her sneer. "You mean the rumors about the leeches bein' soulless as well as heartless? I believe every one of those."

Vergil glanced at his brother. A smile played at his lips. "You are half right, Dante. Vampires are soulless. However, that played no part in the plunder of the limbo between Heaven and Hell."

Dante and Nero both looked at him with curiosity.

"Alright, Vergil," Dante said with a shrug. "Enlighten me, then."

"I don't know the entire tale," Vergil admitted. "I only know what Abigail felt it necessary to tell me. And, as I'm sure you've noticed, she can be quite vague."

Dante frowned and looked from the vampire to his twin. This was the first he had heard of a former meeting between the two of them. Nero found this odd. It hadn't surprised the youth to learn that Abigail had met both of the Sons of Sparda, but he had assumed that the acquaintances were known by each of them.

Dante stared at Abigail. "You're just full of secrets, aren't you?" She shrugged nonchalantly. "Now would be a good time to start talkin'. I don't mind surprises sometimes. But when if you're gonna be bringin' my brother back from the dead, you're gonna at least tell me how the hell your boyfriend wound up with his soul to begin with."

Abigail pursed her lips. It was clear she was not in a mood to disclose anything. But, then, she rarely was. Unfortunately, Dante's anger never served as an appropriate form of persuasion. Nero glanced at her an let his eyes do the pleading. Not sure if it would help but hoping. Vergil turned to her as well.

"I would be interested in that knowledge myself," he stated.

Abigail looked away from all three men and sighed. "You may want to get comfortable," she said at length. "To ensure understanding, I need to start at the beginning. And – as I said – it is a long story."


	19. Chapter 19

Nero sat back in the large armchair and watched Abigail expectantly. He mused the fact that they were all sitting so casually while the Vampire Lord plotted the downfall of humanity from within the same building as themselves. True, the history of the vampires really had no bearings on their current quest, but it seemed an interesting enough story.

The youth glanced over at the twins, before quickly looking back at his companion. Vergil sat straight-backed in the matching chair next to Nero's while Dante lounged on the bed. The devil hunter had his back propped against the headboard and his arms and legs crossed. Despite his interest, Dante feigned boredom by staring everywhere in the room except the point where Abigail stood.

The female vampire seemed relaxed enough to stand by the large wardrobe. Nero had never seen her actually sit before. He wondered if she ever did.

"What I'm going to tell you," she began, "is not an account that you would ever hear anywhere else. Vampires rely wholly on their memory to record history – and they rarely share it. What I know is what Dastan told me. Though he is many things, he is not a liar. He told me of our origin for the purpose of retaining the knowledge, not relating it. Since vampires are immortal, there is never a reason to share our memories." She paused and glanced at her feet. "That is an honor saved for eternal pairings."

Dante jerked his eyes to her. "You mean marriage."

Abigail looked at him. "Not technically, but that analogy would make it easier for you to understand."

Nero felt his heart sink. "So you're 'eternally paired' with that guy?" He couldn't keep the resentment from his voice. The youth had known that Abigail and Dastan had a past together, but he hadn't thought it was serious. He couldn't fathom what had ever attracted her to such a villain.

"That was the arrangement at the time," Abigail said, turning to him. "I suppose you could say we are divorced now."

"I don't see how Abigail's relationship status has anything to do with the vampires and their feud with the other races," Vergil stated. His tone was impatient, and he made a motion for the woman to continue.

She smiled at him, then did as he requested. "It began with Kia. She was the first. The stories in Constantine about the scullery maid being the first are false. Kia was created far before Constantine was established. She was made not long after the time when humans began. It wasn't alchemy that made vampires, as some believe. It was the alliance of angels, demons, and humans. Kia was the product of an unholy union between all the races. She was meant to be perfect; a symbol of what power could be achieved if all forces were combined. The allure of the angels, along with their beauty, gave Kia her ability to woe. The demons added their power over names, as well as their strength and speed. The humans – being frail as they are – could contribute little, so they offered her their blood as sustenance.

"However, even with all the effort the races put into her creation, they could not endow Kia with a soul. None of them had that power. Thus, she was cast out. Denied entry to Heaven as well as the underworld. Earth was to remain her only home for all her existence. And here, she was shunned. By the very same people who had aided her creation."

Abigail huffed, a pained expression on her face. "Eventually, Kia became lonely with being the only one of her species. She created others. First, she chose companions. But that didn't fill her emptiness. She lacked the ability to have children, therefore she made them. I doubt you would be able to understand the nature of a vampire’s relationship with their spawns. It's not that of a model family, I can promise. There is far more rivalry – and intimacy."

"Got you," Dante muttered. "So how's your husband fit into all this?"

"He was one of Kia's mates," Abigail answered. "Dastan was the one who killed her."

"Is that common?" Nero asked. "For vampires to want to kill their maker?"

Abigail grinned at him. "There seems to be a pattern. But it's not easy. The elders are wiser and stronger than their successors. The young ones have to be cunning to rid themselves of their master.

"Dastan was the first one in our history to murder one of his own. But it wasn't just Kia. He would slay all that opposed him. Which is how he came to be alone when he took me. But that's another story.

“Dastan thought what had befallen the vampires was unjust. We didn't choose this fate, so we deserve some sort of compensation. He persuaded Kia to attempt to barter with the demons and the angels. The humans, he felt, gave enough that they owed nothing other than allegiance to the masters of their fate.

"The angels refused to agree to any terms. Without a soul, they would do nothing for the vampires. They regretted their decision to participate in the alliance and denied any part in the ceremony. The demons became angry with being blamed. They agreed to help the vampires steal the souls from purgatory as revenge. But they still denied them entrance to the demon realm. They had no intention of aiding their creation if it did not benefit them. So, Dastan hid the souls from the demons as well as the angels. Kia thought he was being unfair. She had no interest in making undue enemies. She threatened to tell Mundus where the souls were. Dastan did what he had to in order to stop her. I'm sure he felt remorse later, but not for many years."

Abigail was quiet for a while. Each of the men continued to watch her.

"That's it?" Nero asked.

She began to nod, but Vergil cut her short.

"You still haven't explained how Dastan managed to obtain my soul," he reminded her. "I'm not naïve enough to think that purgatory is now empty. Souls do not enter the Vault when detached from their hosts."

"It's been centuries since I've spoken to Dastan," Abigail said. "I can only guess why he would want your soul, Vergil."

The man smiled. "I know you better than that."

Abigail crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. Nero watched them both. Had it been Dante and the vampire he would have known what to expect. The hunter never kept his ire secret and Abigail was quick to remark on it. Yet, Vergil didn't appear affected by the vampire's anger at all. Furthermore, her use of his name seemed to have no effect on him.

"You can thank your brother for that," Abigail told Vergil with a sly grin. "Mundus would never have given you up so easily were he still in command. A son of the traitor Sparda is too much of an advantage. Dastan must have thought you would come in handy at some point. Maybe as a distraction for the devil hunter. Or perhaps as the next emperor of the underworld. If he could revive you, he'd seek your allegiance. An ally in the demon realm would be beneficial to Dastan's plan."

Vergil gazed off and considered her words. "I see your point," he said.

Nero looked down at his demonic arm. He felt like there was a connection between it and Vergil's awakening. Maybe not it so much it as what it contained. Yamato had been crying since the youth had first arrived in Constantine, but now it was quiet. His mind went back to Jainaya telling Falor that the vampires were under orders to search Fortuna. He had asked what they were after, but never gotten any reply. Dante had said the blood suckers didn't know that Nero had Yamato. But the hunter could have been wrong – that certainly wouldn't be a first.

The young man looked at Vergil and wondered if he should say anything about the sword. As of now, no one knew where Vergil stood on the matter of Dastan and protecting humanity. But he was unarmed. If the elder twin intended to help, that would need to be rectified. If he preferred to remain neutral, it was best if he stayed weaponless.

"I have a question," Nero said. He looked at Abigail. "How does hiding those souls hurt the angels and demons?"

Before Abigail could answer, Dante spoke. "They're soldiers, kid. Each side wants 'em for the coming war."

Nero frowned at him. "What war?"

The hunter scoffed and shook his head. "The war between Heaven and Hell. Don't tell me you haven't heard that story."

"You seem to be forgetting, Dante," Vergil interjected, "that Fortuna does not concern themselves with any other religion but their own. It's very likely that Nero has never heard the prophecies concerning the Apocalypse."

Nero turned to Vergil. "How did you know I was from Fortuna?"

The man pointed at Red Queen. "That type of weapon is unique to The Order of The Sword. You also bear their insignia. It doesn't take a genius to come to the conclusion that you serve the cult that worships Sparda."

The youth looked at his ring and jacket. "I don't serve The Order," he said. "I've got my own reasons for stayin' in the ranks."

Vergil eyed him. "That would explain why you carry a pistol," he said. "From what I know of The Order, they forbid the use of firearms. They believe guns are not the weapons of a true warrior."

Dante chuckled. "Sounds like your kind of clan, bro. Obsessed with Sparda and don't like guns. Maybe you should join 'em."

The twins stared at each other. It was eerie how much their expressions resembled at that moment. But for the hair and Dante's stubble, they would have been a mirror image of each other.

Finally, Vergil smiled. "Are you antagonizing me only because I am unarmed?"

Dante shook his head. "I don't wanna fight," he said with surprising seriousness.

"Then my suggestion would be that you try to keep some of your more foolish comments to yourself. _If_ you can manage to go that long without speaking."

The hunter smiled. "I forgot how much fun it was havin' you around, Vergil."

"It's a pity I can't say the same about you, Dante," the other returned.

That only made Dante smile more. "Admit it, I'm the life of the party."

Vergil crossed his arms and huffed. "I'll admit that you are an idiot."

Nero tried to stifle a chuckle. But he did a poor job of it and both of the men looked at him.

"What are you laughin' at?" Dante asked him.

"You're the only one here that doesn't think you're an idiot," the youth told him. "You're outnumbered."

Dante glanced at each one of them. "Nope. It's a tie. you're too young to vote and the leech don't get a say."

Abigail shot him a glare but said nothing.

Nero accompanied words with his sneer. "I'm nineteen, jackass. That's old enough to vote. And Abigail's vote should count twice 'cause she's-" Nero broke off and looked at the vampire. He quickly substituted the word 'old' for the first one that came to his mind."-pretty."

As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Nero felt a blush heat his cheeks and wished he hadn't spoken at all. He looked at his feet and pretended to fiddle with the exceed gauge on his sword. The fact that no one else said anything only made his embarrassment worse. After a long while, the youth chanced raising his head and saw Abigail smile at him.

"Thank you, Nero," she said. "You are a sweet child."

The statement gave Nero the realization that Abigail did not think of him in any other way than just a friend. Yet, he was okay with that. He accepted it because he realized that he only thought of Abigail as a friend, too.

Nero also didn't mind that she had referred to him as a child. Abigail hadn't meant it be rude, nor was it. Compared to her, they were all children.

"Any time," Nero said with a smile.


	20. Chapter 20

Nero opened his eyes and glanced around the bedroom. He had only the vaguest memory of falling asleep. Abigail had insisted that they were safe within the sanctum – safe enough to get some much-needed rest. Dante had argued with her, but eventually gave in. Even he couldn't deny that they needed their strength. The hunter must have known how drained Nero felt after the ordeal in the Vault. He willingly let the youth have the majority of the large bed while taking only the foot to lounge on himself.

Vergil had refused sleep. He claimed he wasn't tired in the least. That was probably true. The elder had spent the last twelve years in slumber. Nero was amazed that Vergil didn't appear to be disoriented by the gap in time. He accepted it, occasionally asking Dante a question about trivial things that had changed over the passing of the decade. A necklace that had been their mothers that Dante admitted to having. A sword that had belonged to Sparda was also in Dante's possession. Vergil seemed to accept all of this with only silence. Whatever opinion he had was kept to himself. He only voiced dissatisfaction when returning some of the snarky comments that Dante made while the two conversed. But neither seemed really angry, more annoyed by the other. Nero guessed that was part of having a sibling.

When the subject of conversation inevitably turned to Yamato, the youth felt the horror of possessiveness take hold. He gazed at the hunter pleadingly when Vergil asked about his former sword's whereabouts. Dante only shrugged and said he assumed the devil arm had been lost a long time ago. That provoked an expression of distrust from the elder, but still he didn't comment. After talk ceased, Nero could have sworn that Vergil glanced at his demonic hand with a secretive glint in his blue eyes.

Nero had dozed while listening to the steady monotone of the brothers. His slumber deepening as both of the Sons of Sparda grew quiet until he knew nothing but the emptiness of sleep. It was a welcome release. The youth didn't know how long it had been since he had awoken in the run-down cellar, but it felt like ages. The bed was much more comfortable than a dirt floor and his rest was fulfilling.

Nero raised his head and looked at Vergil. The man was seated in the same chair that he had been during Abigail's story. But he seemed more relaxed, his body at ease and a book in hand. At his feet, Nero heard the steady snores of Dante. The only one missing from the room was Abigail.

The youth sat up slowly, trying not to disturb the hunter. Vergil glanced at him, then went back to reading.

"Where's Abigail?" Nero asked in a low voice.

"I believe she's in the art room," Vergil answered without looking at him.

"Art room?" the youth repeated.

Vergil glanced up. "The room where the art is kept."

Nero bit his tongue to keep from issuing a retort. His mind screamed that Vergil was an even bigger smartass than Dante. What made it so much worse is that Vergil didn't even have to try to be condescending. It was naturally emulated in most of what he did and said.

The elder man watched Nero intently. "You should be careful about trusting her," he cautioned.

Nero gazed at him. "Why?"

Vergil closed the book and put it on the circular end table that sat between the twin chairs. "Abigail is a vampire," he said. "What more reason do you need to justify distrust?"

"She hasn't given me a reason not to trust her," Nero argued.

Vergil's eyes bore into his and the youth had to make himself maintain his gaze. That stare made Nero feel small and unimportant. He loathed it for the ability to berate him and install guilt where there should be none. The young man would rather face a thousand of Dante's lectures than to endure the heartless gaze of Vergil just once.

"Yet, you are allowing her the opportunity to do so," Vergil stated. "You follow blindly, using purpose as an excuse when really, you let her guide you because you enjoy her company. Am I wrong?"

Nero didn't bother to answer. If he said yes, Vergil wouldn't believe him. But if he admitted that he liked Abigail, it would make him vulnerable. Dante, too, had warned him not to trust Abigail. The hunter's reasoning was just; she was not kind to him. Abigail had never been harsh with Nero. That made it hard for him to dispute her likability. She made it so easy to give in. Nero knew it was a risk. Yet, a risk that was his own choice to take.

"Silence gives consent," Vergil told him.

"I'll keep that in mind," Nero said, standing.

He walked over to the chair and picked up Red Queen from where he had left it. The youth studied his sword for a minute before resting it on his back. He could feel Vergil's eyes on him. He looked over to see the same natural half-smile on the man's face that he'd had when dealing with Dante. Nero frowned at him. "You know, it's not polite to stare at people."

Vergil chuckled softly. "Advice on manners from a child," he mused. "How ironic."

Nero was unsure how he should respond. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't hesitate to return the witty remarks. However, Vergil was a complete stranger. And one the youth had no desire to be on bad terms with. To accept mistreatment would be to give the elder the impression that he was intimidated. But to lash out would make Vergil even more belittling. Nero wanted to stand his ground but remain respectful at the same time.

"Guess I've never really been one to follow the rules," he said.

"None of us are," Vergil stated. He raised from his seat and picked up the book. Crossing the room, he replaced it on the shelf. As he stood facing the lines of tomes, a slight laughter was sounded from the bed.

"Rules are made to be broken," Dante groaned while stretching.

"Rules," Vergil returned, "are installed with the purpose of defining how people should conduct themselves on a whole. The decision to break them displays an individual's ability to think and act on their own, without the influence of a corrupt society."

Dante shrugged and began to gather his weapons. "Some rules are needed."

Vergil looked at his brother. "Which ones?"

The younger huffed. "I'm not getting into a philosophical debate with you," he said.

Vergil smiled. "Your vocabulary has improved. I'm impressed."

"I'm full of surprises," Dante told him with a smirk. He looked at Nero. "Go get the leech. We need to get goin'."

The youth crossed his arms and didn't move. It irritated him that Dante always referred to their compatriot by a derogatory name. "Her name is Abigail," he said. "You go get her."

The hunter gazed fixedly at the young man. "Okay. But I can't promise I won't shoot her."

Nero glared at him. He put his hand on Dante's chest as the man started to pass him. The hunter grinned and holstered his guns. He motioned for Nero to leave the room. Reluctantly, the youth did so.

The art room was the first door on the left after exiting the living room. It was large and filled with painting, sculpting, and crafting supplies. Abigail was standing before a canvas painting a still life of a very realistic vase of lilies. Nero gaped at the picture as he entered the room.

"Wow," he exclaimed. "That's amazing."

Abigail looked back at him. She frowned at the painting. "I'm unpracticed with a canvas," she said.

Nero approached and looked over her shoulder. The light scent of her skin relieved some of his stress. He stared at the picture trying to pick out any flaws but failing. "I don't see how you can say that. It looks perfect."

"To the untrained eye," Abigail agreed. "But I assure you, it is not perfect. Nothing ever is."

The youth nodded to himself. "Close enough."

Abigail cleaned the paintbrush and put away her paints. The painting she left where it was, unconcerned with its fate, as she exited the room.

Nero followed behind her. Vergil's words echoed in his head, but he tried to push them away. It wasn't like the youth to trust so willingly. Nor was it like him to judge unfairly. He couldn't stop himself from liking Abigail, but he wanted to keep his faith in her at a realistic level. Knowing someone for only a day or two did not justify complete reliance. Their situation was dire enough without added complications and nothing was as it seemed. However, one seed of doubt was all it would take to destroy their alliance. Nero couldn't rightfully justify his mistrust of Abigail. As far as he was concerned, she was as good a friend to him as Dante was. Thus, he chose to ignore Vergil's warning.

As Nero and Abigail approached the bedroom door, the voices of Dante and Vergil could be heard. They were engaged in a quiet argument that didn't cease as the other two walked in.

"Whatever, bro," Dante was saying with displeasure. "You're the one who always says to be prepared."

Vergil arched his brow at the younger twin. "I am prepared," he said.

Dante scoffed. "Even you can't kill a blood sucker without a weapon, Vergil."

The elder met the eyes of Nero and Abigail. A smile played at his features. "I suppose I'll be forced to rely on the three of you to dispose of any opposition."

"You're coming with us?" Nero observed. He had expected Vergil to accompany them, but it had never really been decided.

"Yes," Vergil remarked flatly.

"You don't need to be concerned with the well-being of your brother, demon hunter," Abigail spoke. "We will face no opposition that will require weapons until we reach the inner sanctum."

Dante turned to the vampire. There was a deep frown on his face. "I don't like the way you said that."

"Opposition can come in many forms," Abigail explained. "Some trials require will, not strength."

The hunter looked down at Ebony. The dark pistol's silver twin must have still been in its holster because his right hand was empty. He walked over to Abigail and looked down at her. "That's not what I meant," he said. "You say 'we' like you're a part of the group. You're not."

Abigail watched him in silence with a vacant expression. Nero hated the lack of emotion on her face more than he would have disliked her scowling at Dante. It gave the youth the impression that the man had really hurt her feelings. When Abigail did speak her voice was calm and unaffected.

"Of course not."

After her simple statement of acknowledgment, Abigail turned and left the room. Nero watched her leave, then looked at Dante. Resentment was useless, but he still felt the need to comment.

"Do you always have to be an asshole?"

The hunter smirked. "I went from bein' a jackass to an asshole," he noted. "Not sure if that's movin' up or down on your list."

The youth scoffed. "Go blow yourself."

Dante laughed and patted Nero on the shoulder as he exited the room.

Vergil paused in front of the boy. "Is it still noble to defend a woman's honor even when she has no honor to defend?"

Nero looked at him. "I think so."

Vergil nodded. Without a word or glance he left the room with Nero behind him.

The youth was disheartened to see that Abigail had opened to door to the Vault of Souls. He didn't relish the idea of entering the keep a second time. The clamor of memories had been uncomfortable enough the first time. Not to mention, he had inadvertently awakened the corpse of a half demon who had yet to prove where his loyalties were.

"Isn't there another way?" he asked Abigail.

The woman shook her head. "Try to ignore them," she advised.

Nero glanced at his demon arm. It was faintly tinted with a soft glow from the mass of voices. It was nothing like the shouting that he had heard the time before, but it was still overwhelming. Sadness tugged at the back of his mind. He looked at the others. They, too, could feel something from the Vault. He wondered how Abigail could hear the whispers if she didn't have a soul herself.

"What do they sound like to you?" he inquired.

The vampire met his gaze. "Nothing," she lied.

They went inside the Vault and Abigail shut the door behind them. The sound of the latch clicking carried an ominous finality that Nero disliked. He loathed the thought of being trapped in this chamber for all time. It made sense to him how it could qualify as a prison. Though the youth was capable of moving of his own accord, he still felt trapped.

Nero flicked his eyes to Vergil. The man walked beside him with the usual amount of confidence, but his jaw was clinched. The young man could imagine the torture this must be for him. Vergil had been imprisoned here for over a decade. Nero had felt his pain when he had touched the Son of Sparda's mind with his own. It must be horrendous for him to have to endure a remnant of that torment again – even if it was for only a few minutes.

Vergil noticed Nero's stare and narrowed his eyes at the youth. The pale blue irises flickered with anger and Nero looked away. The meaning was clear. Vergil did not want his pity.

The young man felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to his other side to see Dante. The hunter leaned closer and whispered in Nero's ear.

"Think about your first kiss."

Nero stared at him quizzically. Dante pulled away and went back to gazing ahead. The youth took the hunter's advice and delved into his subconscious until he located the desired memory. The forceful images that were not his own abated somewhat as Nero concentrated on that one inconsequential event that had taken place when he was twelve. He almost smiled at the recollection of Kyrie's face when he had only barely brushed his lips against hers. A pink blush and a sweet smile were the reward for his courage. It hardly qualified as a kiss at all. But it had meant everything at the time.

The four reached the second door and Abigail moved in front of the men to open it. Nero felt relief upon exiting the keep, but it was quickly replaced by discomfort when he looked around the new area.

Next to the youth, Dante glanced around with his own expression of bewilderment. The hunter looked at Abigail. "What the hell is this?"

The vampire looked at him. The corner of her lip curled into a disconcerting grin. "The sacrificial chamber," she answered.

Nero dropped his gaze to the stone floor. He would have preferred to face a horde of blood suckers over the obstacle that lay ahead.


	21. Chapter 21

Nero raised his head and looked around the room. The macabre surroundings were repulsive and morbidly fascinating. The youth couldn't take his eyes from the murals and paintings that depicted unimaginable horrors with disturbing vividness. It was the type of decor one would expect from a den of vampires, vastly contradicting the normality of the former rooms. Every item in the sacrificial charmer was a homage to the only thing that carried importance to the occult that walked the world with hidden intentions; blood.

The young knight tried in vain not to stare at the scenes of gore. But they drew his eyes like the flame a damned candle dancing on the pureness of an angel's wing. To say that Nero was entranced would not be an understatement. But for him to admit it – even in the deepest recesses of his own thoughts – was an impossibility. He repelled the darkness within him that was intrigued by the chamber's aura. The youth loathed how much a part of him loved the masochistic pleasures that the paintings were emitting.

Nero refused to look at anyone else in the room, lest they somehow see the sadistic intrigue that hid beneath his stunned features. He needn't have worried. Vergil and Dante were as intent on the illustrations as the youth was, though neither was quite as private about their interest. Dante circled the room, gazing at the hangings. He stopped before one that showed three vampires enraptured in each other’s company with graphic detail. Nero hated that the hunter had chosen that picture out of all the others to turn his attention to. The young man struggled to make his eyes move anywhere else in the room but failed. The fact that there were lifeless bodies of humans in the background of the painting was not what made it so incredibly disturbing. It was the woman that brought Nero so much discomfort. Her eyes were red, and her fangs were extended, but the dark hair and all too familiar facial features of the vampiress made recognition unmistakable.

Nero felt Abigail standing next to him but didn't dare look at her. He doubted he would ever be able to look at her again after seeing that horrendous painting. He was glad when Vergil broke the silence.

"It this Dastan?" the elder man asked.

Nero pointed his gaze at the other man, glad to have something to look at besides the intimate depiction. He stared at the painting Vergil stood before. It displayed a man – one of the same men from all the rest of the pictures, Nero noticed – standing atop a mound of corpses with perfect contentment at his heinous placement. The man was pale with dark hair and green eyes, his vampiric abilities dormant for a change. He looked almost normal, but for his surroundings.

"Yes," Abigail replied.

Dante glanced at the portrait of Dastan, then back to other one. "He doesn't look that scary," the hunter muttered with disinterest.

Vergil huffed. "The serenity with which he conquers humans doesn't bother you, Dante?"

The hunter shrugged. "It's just a paintin'."

"It's not just a painting," Vergil told him. "It's a representation of Dastan's desire. The artist captured his satisfaction accurately. As well as his goal. Were Dastan not happy with the outcome, I doubt he would have kept the painting."

"He wouldn't have," Abigail said. She pointed to the portrait. "That painting is his favorite. Humanity in their place; he in his."

Vergil turned to look at her. "Did he request it?" he asked. "Or was it a gift?"

"A bit of both," she replied. "He asked me to draw him as I truly saw him. So I did. It wasn't what he expected, but he was elated with the product."

The elder nodded. "A man honest enough with his intentions of domination wouldn't be dissatisfied with seeing them portrayed. That says something about his character."

Nero glanced at Abigail out of the corner of his eye. "Did you paint all of these?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Only that one."

"Who did this one?" Dante questioned, gesturing to the one he stood before.

"I don't know," Abigail said. "That was before my time."

Nero turned to gaze at her fully. A frown creased his brow. He assumed before her time meant before she was a vampire. Yet, he didn't see how that could be possible as the woman in the picture looked identical to her and was a vampire.

Abigail noticed his expression and smiled. "I told you I thought Dastan felt remorse for killing Kia."

Nero shot one more glance at the woman in the picture, then turned back to Abigail. "That's Kia?"

She nodded. The youth sighed internally at the admission.

Dante turned toward them. He studied Abigail. "I'm not buyin' it," he said.

Vergil looked at his brother. "As much time as you spent admiring that particular painting, did you not notice that it cannot possibly be less than three thousand years old?"

The hunter regarded his twin with ambiguity. "I'm not an expert on art."

Vergil smirked. "It's faded. The type of paint initially used for its creation was not made to withstand generations. It's been restored. You can tell by the brush strokes."

Dante studied the portrait scrupulously for a few seconds, then looked at Abigail. "You two could be twins."

Abigail didn't respond other than to turn away from him. To Nero, she seemed a tad abashed at having her appearance related to Kia's. More than likely, that was due to the fact that the latter woman's body was displayed with complete, unobstructed vividness in the painting. Other than the scattered smears of blood, there was very little about Kia that wasn't visible.

Dante eventually turned away too, and Nero found himself exchanging a glance with Vergil. The man grinned at him. It wasn't a sly smile, but one of mutual discomfort.

"I suppose you understand the significance of the room," he said.

The youth nodded. It was made so blatantly clear what the chamber was designed for that the meaning could not be misinterpreted. He motioned to a stone chalice built into the far wall. It stood three feet high. The cup was shallow, but about a foot wide. The exterior was decorated with vines and delicate flowers, a contradiction to its intended purpose.

"That's not for water," Nero stated.

Vergil inclined his head in consent. "It's the key to opening what lies ahead." He flicked his eyes to Abigail. "Right, Abigail?"

She met his eyes and nodded. "One of you will have to make a donation."

Dante scoffed and approached them. He crossed his arms and glared at her. "A donation?" he repeated, with a wry laugh. "What is this, a blood bank? I don't make donations. Besides, I'm pretty sure that thing doesn't accept demon blood. So it looks like we're gonna have to find another way through."

"There is no other way," Abigail told him. "The chamber is sealed with an enchantment. There's only one way to break it." She smirked at him. "Besides," she mocked, "you're not a demon, half breed."

"Close enough," Dante sneered.

Vergil positioned himself between his brother and the vampire. He glanced at each of them. "You've been misguided," he said to Dante. "And, Abigail – being cunning as she is – has failed to correct you."

The devil hunter frowned at his twin. "What do you mean?"

"The blood of a pure demon is toxic to a vampire," Vergil explained. "However, when diluted with human blood, the potency of the poison is dulled. The effects for the vampire that would chance to drink that type of concoction are in no way fatal. It wouldn't even be strong enough to cause illness."

Dante watched Vergil skeptically. The elder twin betrayed only confidence with his admission. Nero guessed the demon hunter's expression matched his own. Though the youth was new to all this, he took comfort in the fact that the seasoned warrior was just as ignorant when it came to the blood suckers as himself.

After a long silence, Dante finally asked the question that the youth wondered, but did not want to voice. "How do you know, Vergil?"

The man smiled. "Abigail told me."

The hunter shook his head and grinned in disbelief. "Hate to break it to you, bro, but your little leech is a liar."

The faintest glimmer of sneer showed on Vergil's face before he quickly composed himself. "Never refer to Abigail as _my_ anything," he warned. "Furthermore, it doesn't surprise me that she'd lie to you. You don't have the patience to seek truth, nor would you believe it if it were made obvious. You are too entranced with your own version of reality for your mind to comprehend the shades of gray that are beyond your vision."

Dante accepted the assault with a hardened expression. When Vergil finished, the younger twin sighed. "Well, if you're so sure you're right," he held out his hand to the basin, "prove it."

Vergil let out a humph of annoyance. "No."

The twins eyed each other. Nero sighed in impatience. No matter how much difference there was between the two Sons of Sparda, they equaled each other in their stubbornness.

"I'll do it," the youth said.

All eyes turned to him. Nero shrugged in resolve. "It's not a big deal," he spoke, more to himself than the others. "That thing can't hold that much. It's not like it'll kill me. I'll heal."

Dante crossed his arms. "That's not the point, kid. You-"

Nero cut the hunter off, mostly because he didn't want to hear another lecture. "I've got the most human in me, remember? So, even if Vergil is wrong, my blood stands a better chance of unlocking the door than either of yours does."

Vergil nodded. "He makes a good point."

Dante scowled at his brother. "Figures you'd agree."

Vergil glared at him. "What are you implying, _brother_?"

"Just that the only person you care about is yourself."

Vergil's eyes flashed. His head tilted upward so that he looked down his nose at Dante. "Don't let yourself be blinded by feelings. This is not a personal issue. Have you so quickly forgotten your goal only because it presents a mild discomfort to someone you care about? Nero is old enough to make his own decisions and he should be allowed to do so without being chastened by you. Know your place before you open your mouth, Dante."

Reprimanded, Dante hesitantly nodded and backed away. "Okay." He glanced at Nero, who was still dazed by Vergil's rant. "It's you're call."

The youth adjusted his thoughts and looked at Abigail. She returned his gaze in silence. He guessed there were really no instructions for making a sacrifice. The youth knew that he had to be the one to do it. It just seemed fitting that it should be him. He was the one with the most at stake. It wasn't just the safety of the human world that drove Nero, it was that of his home, his girlfriend, even his family – as novel as that term was to him.

With a self-assured grin, Nero left the group and went to stand in front of the chalice. He had made the choice to "donate” but had not thought of how he would go about it. His right arm was out of the equation. The devil bringer carried blood but wasn't as easy to penetrate as flesh. Red Queen was out as well. The controls were too delicate to risk damaging. Nero wasn't entirely certain he could control his grip while inflicting a wound upon himself. The youth muttered a curse as he realized that the slim, sharp blade of Yamato was ideal for this sort of thing.

Nero glanced over his shoulder at Vergil as he summoned the katana into his right hand. He didn't pause to gauge the man's reaction before making a quick horizontal slash across the soft skin of his left arm. The cut didn't hurt. It wasn't until after the blood began to gush that Nero let out a hiss of pain. The crimson liquid flowed freely, and the basin began to fill. The youth hoped the seal would break before he began to heal. He didn't like the idea of having to repeat the action a second time.

As the steady stream of blood slowed to a light trickle and finally to a receding drip, Nero heard the grinding of stone as the door was revealed. He stepped back, shaking the specks of blood from his arm, and grinned at the newly opened passage. It was dark and endless.

Nero turned to needlessly announce his success, but all words died as he saw Abigail snarling at him with red eyes. There was no doubt that the vampire would have attacked if she weren’t being held back by Vergil. The sword Dante had pointed at her didn't seem to worry her in the slightest.

The youth wiped his arm on his jacket and looked down at the fading scar. Had he known his sacrifice would cause this much trouble, Nero might have had second thoughts about making it.


	22. Chapter 22

Nero took a step back from the blood thirsty vampire and tightened his grip on Yamato. The passage behind him waited with inanimate patience to be entered. The youth didn't like the way Abigail looked when she unleashed her abilities. He had known what she was from the beginning, but it still pained him to view her as anything less than human. A part of Nero had managed to forget how dangerous Abigail could be. It had made a difference between her and the rest of the blood suckers. A difference that was now being dispelled with a heartsick jolt.

Slowly, Abigail's eyes resumed their amber tint and her fangs receded. Her body began to relax, though Vergil still held her tight. His knuckles were white from the grip on her arms, his fingers making indention in her smooth flesh. Dante continued to hold Rebellion to her throat in silent warning, and Abigail narrowed her eyes at him.

"I expected more control from you," Vergil told her. His eyes regarded the back of her head, therefore he missed the sneer that his words gave Abigail. He glanced at his brother. "Lower your sword, Dante."

The younger twin looked at him skeptically, then hesitantly put his weapon away. "You should have just let me kill her," he said.

Vergil released Abigail. She straitened her posture and glared at Dante. "You’re welcome to try whenever you're ready, half breed," she challenged with quiet menace.

Dante smirked and put his hand on the hilt of his sword, indicating his willingness to do just that. Vergil huffed and moved himself between the two of them.

"Your resentment can wait," he said to his brother. "Right now, there are more important matters to attend to. And – even if you are reluctant to admit it – we need Abigail."

Dante let his hand fall and looked away from Vergil. "Maybe," he consented with doubt. The hunter looked at Abigail. The loathing was apparent on both of their faces as she met his gaze. "We'll finish this later, then."

She gave him a cruel smile of acceptance.

Dante looked at Nero. "You good, kid?"

The youth nodded. He glanced at each of the other three. Vergil was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Nero followed his eyes to the sword in his hand. He realized that he still held Yamato exposed. The youth moved to position the katana behind him and recalled it within the safe confines of his demonic arm.

Vergil tore his gaze away from the young man. He instead looked back to Abigail. A small grin played at his features. "When was the last time you fed?" he asked her.

Abigail's face became a shade darker. Under other circumstances, Nero might have been amused by her blush. Yet, at the present time, he was in no state to be amused by much of anything.

"That's none of your business, Vergil."

Vergil glared at her. It was the first time the man had displayed any indication that her use of his name affected him in any way. Though, it may have been more Abigail's statement that irritated him. "When you endanger the success of our mission, it is my business," he said. "I dislike repeating myself, but I will do you one small favor by asking again: When was the last time you fed?"

He enunciated each word slowly and plainly as if demanding an answer from a child. Nero was reminded of Credo and how his adopted brother had taught him to wield a sword. Often Credo would take that same tone with the young knight when Nero would miss a perry of preform a counter wrong. As he always did when remembering his former family, Nero was saddened by the memory.

Abigail was patient in giving her reply. "Three days," she said. "There's been a lack of suitable donors within Castillo Vivientes."

Dante scoffed. "That's a nice way of puttin' it," he said. "You're not having withdrawals, are you?"

Abigail gazed at him with deep indignation. "I'm beginning to regret my decision to help you," she spat. "So self-assured in your abilities, yet you would not have made it this far without me."

Dante gave a mocking laugh. "You haven't been that much help, leech. I could have made it just fine without you around. In fact, I think you're holdin' me back."

Abigail slowly smiled and met his eyes. "Holding you back?" she repeated. "You've no idea what I've done for you, half breed. Do you think that pathetic girl would have spoken to you on her own if I hadn't convinced her to so? Or that you would have made it to the castle unchallenged if I had not intervened?" Abigail leaned closer to him and whispered a phrase Nero only barely caught. "Do you think Nero would still be alive if I hadn't sent the message to spare him?"

The youth raised his eyes to Abigail. Dante was struggling with the whether or not to believe her. Yet, everything she said seemed to make sense to Nero. The people of Constantine feared him and the hunter. The girl who had given Dante the name of the castle had been a servant to the vampires. Nero doubted she would betray them without permission. Furthermore, they had met little opposition since arriving at Castillo Vivientes. Nero wasn't vain enough to think all the vampires were that scared of him and Dante. Had they wanted the pair dead, it would have been easy enough to pursue them to castle. Even in Fortuna, it seemed that the blood suckers had made it easy for Nero to triumph. Jainaya had been the only exception. And it had been Abigail herself who had dispatched the blonde menace.

Abigail grinned at the perplexed expression on Dante's face. "I've used what little sway I still hold over the family to make this job easier for you and you think I'm 'holding you back'. I should have expected nothing less from an ignorant narcissist like yourself."

Dante sighed and crossed his arms. He ignored the insult and chose instead to counter with his doubt. "Even if I believed all that crap, I still don't see why you'd want to help me. It's not like we've ever been friends."

"Nor will we ever be," Abigail told him. "Your assistance is far from what I want, but I must admit that I do need you."

The hunter was noticeably taken aback by the statement. He fumbled with a crease in his red trench coat and in uncharacteristic politeness did not make an issue of his own importance. After a long silence of avoiding her, Dante looked at Abigail. "I guess that makes us even," he said. "So, is this the end of the line?"

Abigail nodded at the entrance behind Nero. The youth turned and peered once more down the darkened hallway. It gave the appearance of never-ending blankness. Nero was apprehensive about entering. Though nothing about the corridor was visibly dangerous, it's silence was foreboding.

"The Passage of Strength," the vampiress named it.

Vergil came to stand beside Nero and gazed at the nothingness. "It's a test," he said. "Though, I doubt the strength required to cross is purely physical."

"No," Abigail agreed. "Not completely. It was designed to weaken any opponent wishing to enter the inner-sanctum."

Nero looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," Abigail answered. She gestured to the opening.

The youth turned back and sighed heavily. He glanced at Vergil. The elder man met his eye and Nero grinned. "After you," he offered.

Vergil gave him a hard stare. "How generous," he replied icily as he entered the passage.

Nero walked in behind the other man and cast a look beside him to see Dante and Abigail. The latter paused at the entrance and pressed a protruding stone. The stone wall slid into place with a loud clunk. All eyes turned toward the way they had come. With the door closed, the tunnel was even darker and more uncomfortable.

"Hey," Dante called to Abigail. "Why'd you shut it?"

"You cannot open another door without first closing one," she said. "This is how it has to be."

The hunter scoffed as the vampire walked by him and took the lead. "I prefer to make my own rules," he said as they all fell into a steady pace.

"As do I," Abigail called back. "Unfortunately, we are not the creators of this game. We are merely participants. Though, I intend to win."

"By that, you mean Dastan is the one who set all this up?" Nero asked.

"Yes."

The youth nodded to himself. He didn't exactly like the idea of the Vampire Lord waiting patiently for their arrival. Dastan had had far too much time to organize the chain of events as it was. The fact that he was just waiting showed arrogance. Arrogance that Nero had every intention of crushing. He took solace in the thought that Dastan was most likely alone. And that Vergil was – for all intents and purposes – on their side. Surly even the Master hadn't anticipated the return of the eldest Son of Sparda. Even if he had, Nero still felt like they had an ace in the hole. He knew Dante's strength and guessed Vergil's was equal.

However, there was still the minor issue of Vergil being unarmed. This concerned Nero, but just trying to conjure of a way to rectify this was tiring. Luckily, the youth was not the only one who was thinking along those lines.

"Hey, Vergil," Dante called. "Are you sure you don't want Ebony?"

Vergil sighed in annoyance. "Positive. A warrior is only as good as the weapon he wields. I favor a blade."

"A true warrior," Dante returned, equally annoyed, "can wield any weapon."

"Effectively, maybe," Vergil agreed, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. "But 'effectively' doesn't always win a battle. That requires proficiency."

"He's got a point," Nero said with a yawn.

Vergil grinned at the young man. Dante let out a huff which turned into a yawn of his own.

"Stop it, kid," the hunter chided. "Don't you know that yawning is contagious?"

Nero began to retort but found the effort would take too much energy. He was feeling rather lethargic and would have liked very much to sit down for a minute or two.

Abigail looked back at them. Her eyes were dull and unresponsive. When she spoke, her voice was slow and groggy. "It's the effects of the passage," she said. "It drains your energy."

Dante groaned. "That's just great. How'm I suppose to fight if I can't even lift my sword?"

"That's the trick, isn't it?" Vergil elated. "You're not supposed to be able to fight."

The hunter sighed. "At least it’s not just affectin' us." He jerked his head to Abigail.

She shot him a glare and stumbled over her own feet. Nero was too slow in reacting to catch her. He tried to make himself move faster, but his body refused to obey. It remained heavy and uncoordinated. The youth watched as Vergil casually put his arm around Abigail to steady her. She gave him an embarrassed smile of thanks, but he didn't release her. Instead, he halted and held her against the wall. Nero and Dante likewise stopped. The youth leaned his back on the cold stone and relished the reprieve as Vergil gazed at Abigail with a critical expression.

"How much farther do you think you can go?" he asked her. She adverted her eyes in favor of answering. Vergil huffed and gave her a cool grin. "The sacrifice wasn't only meant as a means of unlocking the door. Was it? It was also meant to give you the strength to traverse the passage unhindered."

Abigail slowly nodded. Nero stared at her. She looked more human than ever in her current state. Weak and frail, barely able to hold her own weight. Though, the youth himself was feeling tired, he doubted the hallway was affecting him in the same way it was Abigail. She looked paler than usual. For the first time since he'd met her, Nero equated her appearance with that of a corpse. Abigail looked as if she were on the very brink of death.

Abigail's head lowered and Vergil gripped her chin roughly and made her look at him. "You are a burden," he stated coolly. "In any other instance, I'd be more than willing to watch you die."

Nero gazed at the elder with something akin to deep loathing, but didn't move or speak. Dante stood at the other side of the corridor and crossed his arms. He glanced nonchalantly at his twin.

"As it is," Vergil continued to speak to an unresponsive Abigail, "we did make a deal. Not to mention the fact that I would prefer your death to be much more painful than this." He glanced at Nero and Dante before turning back to Abigail. "Perhaps it's time I prove a point."

Vergil pushed up the left sleeve of his coat and put his wrist to Abigail's lips. Her eyes did not focus on the man, though her face was toward him. The vampire did not appear enticed by the scent of fresh blood at all. Not in the way Nero would have expected. Abigail had went into a frenzy when shown the youths blood but having some offered to her seemed no to affect her at all. Nero wasn't sure if it was the demon in Vergil that dissuaded Abigail, or the lack of coherent thought.

He pushed himself away from the wall, intent on trying in some way to help Vergil revive Abigail. The elder man gave him one fleeting glance of negativity, then returned his attention to the perishing vampire. Nero sulked back against the wall. He was too tired to be angry, so he contented himself with trusting Vergil. He was surprised that faith in the oldest twin was much easier to muster than he had initially thought it would be. But, again, the youth was too tired to dwell on the oddity.

"Drink," Vergil ordered Abigail. She rolled her placid eyes to his. "Or die. The choice is yours. But I will not offer again."

Abigail's eyelids fluttered. Closing completely for a second, she reopened them to display vivid red irises. A weak hiss escaped her as the vampiress bared her fangs and sank them into Vergil's flesh. Appalled by the sudden change in his friend, Nero looked away. The scene was horrid – and somewhat embarrassing – to watch. Instead, the young knight focused on a crack in the mortar that held the stones of the floor together.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caused Nero to look back to the blood sucker and her victim. Abigail was standing erect, looking – for the most part – like her old self again as Vergil straitened his jacket sleeve. The man swayed slightly from the sudden drain in energy but held up well under the pressure.

"Now," he spoke in a slow, groggy tone, "we can continue on our way."

Without further ado, Vergil turned and began to traverse the corridor to their desired destination. Casually, he placed a hand to wall to steady his steps. Abigail glared at his back, then followed.

Nero and Dante exchanged a glance of mutual omittance from bearing witness to such an odd event. The hunter shook his head minutely and made a motion with his hand for the youth to get going. Nero did so with Dante by his side. The weight of what lay ahead forced out all other thought and Nero sincerely hoped that he could regain whatever strength the passage had stolen from him before being thrown into the inevitable fight for his life that was close at hand.


	23. Chapter 23

The group came to a halt before a large iron door at the far end of the Passage of Strength. Nero's feet were dragging at that point. The youth would have sworn that he had walked ten miles instead of only six yards. He leaned himself carelessly against the wall as Abigail moved forward to open the door. Nero was amazed at the change in the vampire since she'd fed. Abigail no longer showed any signs of fatigue, her movements and reactions were as graceful and agile as ever. A small voice in the back of Nero's head had worried that the blood of a half-demon might have caused her some kind of illness, but it was apparent that Vergil had been right in his claim that the toxin had no potency when mixed with a human's life-giving liquid.

Nero flicked his eyes to the elder twin, wondering how he had come to learn all that he knew. Vergil was on far better terms with Abigail than Dante, though his relationship with the vampiress could not exactly be qualified as 'friendly'. It seemed more an issue of accepting her for what she was than anything else.

Vergil slowly turned to the youth, a tired expression on his impassive face. Nero opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again in favor of silence. Vergil's doings were none of his business. A sentiment which the other man would firmly agree to. So, the two gazed at each other with quiet scrutiny until the clink of the latch drew their attention to the open door and the lit interior that lay beyond.

Abigail gave each of them a stern looking-over before entering the inner-sanctum. Dante took it upon himself to follow first. Nero lagged behind until Vergil cleared the doorway. The youth stood behind his three companions and surveyed the large chamber. It was bare and cold, no adornments save an oversized armchair at its center that could qualify as a throne. Nero was perplexed by the emptiness of the room. He had expected something more...elaborate. Like the rest of the mansion. He wondered what Dastan did to pass the time while secluded in such a boring area.

The youth looked at the figure in the chair. Dastan favored his portrait immensely. The only difference was the clothing. In Abigail's painting, the Vampire Master had been dressed in the style of the era – regal and noble, he'd even been sporting a cape. The attire that Dastan now donned was more modern, but still formal. Dark blues and purples tinted the suit that was perfectly tailored to Dastan's lean build. A gold emblem was sewn on one of his jacket's lapels. It was a bird of some sort clutching a staff in its talons.

Green eyes raised to view the guests and a smile formed on Dastan's lips. It was not an altogether unpleasant smile. In fact, it seemed quite friendly. Nero might have returned it but for the fact that his weakness was ebbing and the memories of what all Dastan had done and planned to do returned to his mind, bringing his naturally cocky attitude with them. The youth sneered at the Vampire Lord, who passed over the expression without so much as a lingering glance.

Dastan looked at Abigail. "It would seem," he said in a strong, deep voice, "that your time among the humans has done you well. Though, I suppose you have not yet tired of the endless animosity they bestow upon you, else you would not have gone through such painstaking endeavors to reach me."

Abigail shook her head. "No," she replied simply.

Dastan sighed. "Still so naive," he mused. "I may have been too hasty with my decision to recruit you. But you were rather mature for your young age, even by human standards."

"What does it feel like?" Abigail asked him with a grin. "To regret?"

"Oh, I don't regret you, Abigail," he returned. "You are everything I made you. I only wish you were more obedient."

Dante huffed and drew Rebellion. "You done chattin'?" he asked impatiently. "I didn't come this far to listen to a couple leeches reminisce about the good ol' days."

Dastan chuckled at the hunter. He leaned back in his seat and studied Dante. "Your reputation precedes you, Son of Sparda. It is nice to finally put a face to all the dreadful tales I've heard about you. You are every bit as brash and temperamental as the demons claim. No doubt just as dangerous as well."

Dante held his sword out to Dastan and gave the vampire a satisfied – albeit, somewhat confused – grin. "Can't argue with that," he said. "But I didn't think leeches listened to demon gossip. Sounds like you were checkin' up on me."

"Indeed," Dastan admitted. "You pose quite a threat. The devils I've encountered fear you greatly. Rightly so, I suspect. They say you are an even greater warrior than your father was. Though Sparda and I were never on civil terms with one another, I must admit he was an exceptionally skilled opponent. I look forward to discovering just how many of his traits you've inherited."

The hunter beckoned him with his free hand. His body was poised for a fight. Blue eyes fixed on his target, ready for any advance. "What's the hold-up?"

"You will not die by my hand, Son of Sparda," Dastan told him.

Dante's stance faltered. He flicked his eyes to his compatriots before staring at Dastan. Nero was equally surprised by the vampire's words. After coming all this way – after overcoming so many obstacles – their main threat was refusing to fight. Nero remembered Abigail saying that Dastan never entered combat unless he was certain he could win. Given his present refusal, the youth felt confidence at Dastan's doubt.

Nero took a step forward and put his hand on Red Queen. He leered at the Vampire Master. "You're not afraid, are you?" he taunted.

Dastan turned his gazed to the young knight. The green eyes held within them the weight of seeing centuries of miraculous and horrendous events. There was a sullenness there that Nero could not understand. The young man was awed by the ancient mixture of emotions in those eyes and wished only that they would look away. It was no small wonder that Dastan could sit alone in an empty chamber for days on end. The kind of knowledge that the vampire held would drive a mortal to insanity.

"No," Dastan answered.

Nero believed him. Not because Dastan had said so, but because the man showed not a hint of fear. His features and voice remained steady and even. The group could have been discussing anything from the weather to a disappointing movie for all the feeling in Dastan's tone.

A quiet huff drew everyone's attention to Vergil. The eldest twin was watching Dastan with a confident grin that did little to hide it's loathing for the Vampire Lord. "Abigail has failed to mention a vital detail concerning your scheme," he said to Dastan. His cold, blue eyes surveyed Dante and Nero, then turned back to the vampire on the throne. "Conquering the human world is not your main goal. You seek revenge on Heaven for betraying your kind."

Nero glanced at Vergil, thoroughly confused by the admission. Dante seemed to share in the kid's confounding thoughts as he gazed at his brother with unsurprised resolution. Dastan, too, was staring at Vergil.

"Brilliant," the vampire muttered. He looked at Abigail. "I'm unsure whether to be impressed with your ability to keep secrets from your fellow conspirators, or furious that you felt the need to share them with your former lover."

Nero's mind reeled for a second until he was able to push all questions revolving around Dastan's term for Vergil and Abigail from his mind. Now was not the time or the place to ponder the past and its multitude of disconcerting secrets.

"She said nothing," Vergil told Dastan. "This conclusion I arrived at on my own. It has never made sense to me that a man desiring as much power as yourself would wish only to control your prey. That feat would be far too easy for you. Therefore, I guessed you must have something else in mind. Something far deeper. The theft of the souls was only the beginning. You angered the angels with that ploy, but not enough to demand their full attention. Now, you admit to having demons under your command. This can only mean one thing: you're waging a war on all fronts."

Dastan regarded Vergil with impressed indifference. "You are a smart one," he said. "I often wondered why the underworld demanded such a low price for your soul. I assumed it was fear of your brother that made them eager to be rid of you. But perhaps they were merely afraid that – if you were ever revived – you would overtake the reign Mundus left behind."

Vergil's eyes glazed over thoughtfully. "Perhaps," he mused.

Dastan leaned forward, still not rising from his seat. Nero thought it odd to see a vampire sit for such a long period of time. It was a first for him.

"If that is something you would desire," the vampire told Vergil in an offering manner, "it could be achieved."

Vergil locked eyes with Dastan. He pondered the meaning far longer than Nero would have liked. To the youth, it appeared as if the eldest son was considering agreeing. That would be an unwelcome decision for the rest of the group. Making Vergil the enemy as well as Dastan.

If Abigail had not chosen that moment to break her mute state, Nero would have answered for Vergil – and the youth's response would not have been a kind refusal.

"Before you begin bartering what you do not have to gain allies," Abigail said to Dastan, "I feel compelled to remind you that not all services can be bought."

The Vampire Lord looked at her and smiled. "What an odd sentiment coming from you, my love." He put his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his chin on his hand. "As I am sure you have already set your own price. Freedom, am I right? But from what, I wonder?"

"From the one thing you will never agree to," Abigail replied. "Yourself."

Dastan laughed. He had a charming laugh. "I do not own you, Abigail. Nor do I hold the secret of how to lift your...curse – as you choose to see it. Killing me will not make you human again."

"That's not what I want," she said. "I don't miss being weak and pathetic. I'm accustom to what I am. What I want is to exist without interference. For the choices I make to be my own and not a part of anything you've commissioned."

"Hmm," Dastan murmured. "Is that all?"

"Yes," Abigail told him.

Dastan hesitated, then shrugged. "I expected you to ask that I spare your friends as well."

Abigail gazed at him with unwavering resolve. "I have no friends," she said.

Nero stared at her. He wasn't sure what Abigail's plan was, but he hated hearing those words coming from her lips. Even more, he hated the assurance with which she spoke them. It wasn't right and it wasn't true. He wished more than anything that the talking would end so that the fighting could begin.

Dante scoffed and took a step toward Dastan. "I'm not relying on her for survival," he spoke. "That's what I've got Rebellion for. But you seemed pretty sure when you said I wouldn't die by your hand."

"And so you will not," Dastan stated.

"If you're forfeitin'-"

"I am not forfeiting," Dastan interrupted. He looked again at Abigail. "That one will always be a thorn in my side." She agreed with a nod. "It would be unfortunate to lose one with such potential. But even more unfortunate for me should I allow him to live."

The hunter cast him a mocking grin.

"Abigail," Dastan continued, "I appreciate that you've been able to deliver me the descendants of Sparda where all others have failed. However, I am afraid that will not be enough to grant you immunity from my rule."

Abigail remained motionless. "What would you have me do?"

"Kill the demon hunter."

Nero was ready to laugh at the blood sucker for his foolish thinking that Abigail would do as he requested. It never entered the youth's mind that this may have been the very opportunity that his vampire friend was waiting for. It wasn't until she bowed her head at her former master that Nero realized just how far Abigail would go to ensure her own freedom.

The same thought that had plagued Nero's mind many rooms prior now returned as Abigail took a battle stance in front of Dante. The youth watched them wondering who he should cheer for. Or if he should hope for the downfall of both. Neither of them was able to push away their grudge long enough to accomplish a single common goal. The hunter seemed just as pleased with the turn of events as the vampire was. Both of their animosity was ecstatic by the prospect of a long overdue outlet.

Nero made a move to intervene but was stopped by Vergil. He scowled at the other man, but Vergil held firm to Nero's arm and his eyes dared the youth to resist. The young man considered doing so just to spite him. But he also considered that Vergil may be just as dangerous to cross as Dastan. Therefore, he remained.

Vergil didn't relinquish his grip on Nero, and his eyes continually flicked to the demonic hand that rested at Nero's side.

"You would be wise to return Yamato to me," he whispered with authority.

Nero frowned and pulled against the hand that held him. The strong grasp only tightened. Vergil's gaze was hard, but there was a faint glimmer of restraint in it. The youth struggled with what to do. If he gave the man Yamato, he may well be sealing all of their doom. However, if he chose to keep the katana, Vergil would not have a chance of being any aid at all – if that was his intention.

The youth glanced at Dante and Abigail, knowing whatever choice he made should be done quickly.


	24. Chapter 24

Nero glanced at Dastan, then at Dante and Abigail, and finally back to Vergil. The latter only continued his impatient stare down as the others were concerned only with what events were currently taking place. The youth swallowed hard and tensed as the iron fingers around his upper arm closed tighter, demanding Nero's undivided attention.

The intense, unwavering blue gaze that held Nero in its clutches diverted ever so slightly from its target when Dastan spoke.

"For this show-of-faith to hold meaning," the vampire lord was saying to Abigail, "it must be done in the proper manner."

Nero craned his head to catch Abigail's reaction. He was unsure about Dastan's meaning, and it soon became apparent that she was likewise confused. Or, rather, unhappy. Her lips quirked into the smallest frown as she looked at the figure on the throne.

"Properly?" she questioned with irritation.

Dastan smiled at her. "I want neither of you to have an advantage," he stated. "Therefore, you, Abigail, will battle in the style of a true Vampire: without foreign weapon."

Abigail stood up straighter, her eyes burning with hatred as she removed her whip from her belt and tossed it aside. If she had meant for the object to hit Dastan – as it could have appeared to a bystander – she failed. The magic-imbued leather hit the marble floor a few inches before the vampire lord and skittered to a halt at the polished toe of his dress shoes. Dastan's only response to the outburst was to gaze at his protege with mild resignation. Much the way the parent of a three-year-old looks when attempting to ignore a tantrum. He then nudged the undesirable weapon away with his foot and sat back to await the show.

Vergil, meanwhile, was struggling to reiterate his request for Yamato to Nero by drawing the youth's attention back his face with a quick jerk. Nero managed to forget the scene in front of him as the elder man once again filled his vision with that same annoying, commanding expression of disdain.

"Now is not the time to consider everybody's best interest," he warned in a calm voice. "I intend to survive. If you do as well, then give me Yamato."

Nero only gaped up at him for a second. Then he picked up the strained sounds of combat and flicked his eyes to the twin blurs that made up the fight between his two friends. Dante was swinging Rebellion rabidly in a full-scale attempt to gain ground that Abigail was slowly being forced to give so that she could effectively evade the powerful blows.

Anger wound its way in the youth's mind, and he felt the tug of the katana beckon strongly. But along with the anger he also felt a small stab of fear take hold. No matter what Dante had said about how much effort it would require to best Abigail, she was no match for him unarmed. She had speed, and endurance. But the hunter was the stronger of the two.

A warm breath tickled Nero's ear and brought with its words that sealed his decision. "I will not kill her."

He looked back at Vergil, perfectly aware that the man had not sworn to do no harm to his twin, and Yamato materialized in his demonic claw. He may have had the intention to barter for Dante's well-being in exchange, but – if he did – Vergil didn't give him opportunity. The eldest effortlessly relieved Nero of the sword and grinned as he held it in his hand. He gazed lovingly at the unscathed blade for only a heartbeat, then nodded once at the youth.

"Draw your sword, boy," he ordered.

Nero glared at him. He cursed himself violently for not seeing this coming. Vergil was unstable and pledged no allegiance to anyone but his own self. That the half-demon would betray them all should not have been a surprise.

So why, then, was Nero so appalled?

He reached for Red Queen with his left hand, promising not to give Vergil a chance to raise his blade. And Vergil didn't. He merely flicked the fuel injected sword aside with the blunt edge of his katana, frowning deeply at the youth.

The frown quickly reversed into a sneer as Nero felt cold steel touch his neck. The youth stilled and did not attempt a second attack.

Vergil shook his head slowly. "That was not an invitation to a duel," he corrected. "But if you feel the need to enter their fight unarmed, be my guest."

The blade was removed from Nero's skin and the youth sighed earnestly in understanding. Vergil was playing his part as the ally. It would take them both to stop the war raging between Dante and Abigail. And as fiercely as the two were fighting, both Vergil and he definitely had to be toting weapons.

"What's the plan?" Nero asked as he adjusted his grip on Red Queen.

Vergil let out a soft hum and glanced at the younger man out of the corner of his eye. "Intervene, divide their attention and avoid becoming the target of their wrath."

Nero scoffed. The last part would be the hardest. "You make it sound easy," he muttered.

"Not easy," Vergil commented with a grin. "Only simple. I assume you intend to dissuade Abigail." The youth nodded at the hypothetical statement. "A word of cation, she can become somewhat violent when she's intent on her actions."

Nodding yet again Nero turned back to the vampiress and the devil hunter that were battling ferocity. He quickly analyzed the scene and decided the best course of intervention would be to draw Abigail's attention away from Dante. However, that would put the youth in her sights. And if Vergil were right – which Nero did not doubt – she would likely only advert her attacks to the interloper. Nero was sure he could combat Abigail without doing her harm, but he was concerned that she would not be showing him the same restraint. His only hope as he and Vergil charged into the fray was that Abigail would realize her mistake quickly. Perhaps she would only hurt him a little. Nero was resilient. He could withstand wounds that would be fatal to mortals, but he did not relish the idea of them coming from someone he considered to be his friend. Even if that friend had admitted to plans of betrayal.

As Vergil deftly deflected a blow aimed for Abigail with Yamato, Nero drove himself in front of the vampiress. He had hoped that being in her direct line of sight would calm her, but the fire within her amber eyes burned brighter at the interruption. The vampire snarled as her gaze fell on Nero, then she advanced on him with as much strength as she had used with Dante. Nero was unprepared for the onslaught and raised Red Queen to intercept the blow. He gave a startled gasp as Abigail's fist collided with the sword, driving him back a foot. Nero felt a dozen pinpricks of heat on his exposed forearm and glanced down just in time to see the Red Queen's fuel injection erupt in flames. He quickly discarded the burning blade and dove to the side to miss a second assault from his angered friend.

Abigail corrected and landed a powerful hit to the youth's stomach that threw him halfway across the room. Dazed from the blow, Nero lay on his back for a second trying to regain his senses. When his vision cleared, he saw Abigail standing over him, glaring with murderous intent. He managed to call out her name weakly as she knelt next to him and closed her fist around his throat.

"Never come between me and my prey," she warned in a half snarl.

Nero felt his airway constrict as her grasp tightened. He raised his hands to Abigail's wrist and attempted to remove the vice grip from his throat. So concerned was he with his struggle for survival that the youth completely missed the odd burning sensation he received from his demonic hand coming in contact with her skin. Abigail, however, was acutely aware of the tingle from the touch. Her expression changed only slightly as she registered the change. Her grip loosed only enough to allow Nero a shallow breath. In that breath, Nero felt the unmistakable and abnormally natural swell of power that resided within his mixed blood. The environment took on a new look. His sight became more enhanced, his hearing more acute. Even his sense of smell was more pronounced.

Nero saw his devil bringer glow, saw his body take on a bluish aura. Then with speed he rarely displayed, the youth wrenched the vampire's fist from around his neck and rolled away from her. As he rose to his feet, he noticed how incredibly quiet the chamber had gotten. The clash of metal had stopped. The grunts of combat were silent. All that remained were the soft pants of the figures in the room that were still breathing.


	25. Chapter 25

Ever so slowly, Nero managed to control his breathing and calm himself enough to allow his demonic manifestation to subside. He looked around the chamber, struggling to make sense of the scene before him.

Directly in front of him, Abigail stood rigidly, staring to her left. Her breathing was quick and shallow, the corners of her mouth quirked in an odd mixture between a grin and a sneer. Nero followed her gaze and beheld Vergil standing with his back to everyone. Blood dripped rhythmically from the tip of Yamato as he gripped the katana gingerly at his side.

On the throne before the eldest twin, seated in an uncommon, slumped posture, was the headless body of Dastan. Nero's eyes lowered and he swallowed back a gag as he noted the pool of dark, congealed blood oozing from the head that still had the final expression of surprise etched on the elegant features. Nero, who was never squeamish, found his sudden bout of nausea at the sight perplexing. He attributed the sickness to high emotions and a taxing week of anomalies.

Dante stood slightly behind and to the left of Vergil with the stance and countenance of one thoroughly confused but determined not to show it. He watched his brother expectantly.

Vergil's head turned to look over his shoulder at Abigail. "How shall we dispose of this?" He asked in a tone that betrayed no emotion at all.

Abigail seemed dazed as she looked upon her fallen creator. It took her a moment to answer. When she did, her voice was as steady and relaxed as ever. "Fire."

Vergil turned and flicked his sword, displacing droplets of crimson liquid in an arc on the white marble floor. "I'll let you handle that," he told the vampire. Without making eye contact with anyone, he moved in fluid strides to stand at the far end of the room, alone.

Abigail moved forward. Bending, she grasped a fistful of Dastan's dark brown hair and lifted the dismembered head to eye level. She studied it solemnly for a moment then tossed it onto its owner's lap. Dante approached her, sheathing Rebellion. He took a zippo lighter out of his coat pocket and held it out to Abigail.

"I suppose you want to do the honors," he said flatly.

Abigail took the lighter with what could be considered a look of thanks and proceeded to light the remains of the headless corpse.

Nero turned away, not wishing to see what happened next. He was feeling a mixture of emotions that he was unsure how to process. Paramount to them all was anger. Anger at Abigail for using him, at Dante for not being completely honest with him, at Vergil for taking Yamato, but most of all, Nero was angry with himself. He should have expected the situation to become so complicated. He should have kept his guard up and not gotten emotionally evolved.

Nero clinched his jaw and turned his eyes to the slightly smoldering object lying on the floor a few feet from him. He walked over and took the handle of his beloved Red Queen and inspected the damage. What he saw fueled his rage even more. The injector that he had so carefully and meticulously put together was now a twisted hunk of charred steel and frayed wires. It would take him weeks – months – to repair his sword. That was if restoration was even possible. The very idea of a replacement filled the young man with a sense of dread so strong it was saddening. True, it was an inanimate object, not befitting affection, but Red Queen had been his. Nero had carried her through many triumphs, as well as defeat. She was an extension of his abilities. Of his very self. He could not bear the thought of parting with her. She was almost as dear to him as Kyrie.

Nero tightened his grip on the sword and took a deep, shaky breath. His respiration was not the only thing that was shaky, he noticed. He was trembling with frustration.

"Sorry about your sword, kid."

Nero rounded a hard glare on Dante. He had never wanted to punch the hunter as much as he did at that moment.

"Sorry?" he repeated through clenched teeth. "After all this, the only thing you can say is sorry?"

Nero swiped the bent weapon around in an arc aimed at Dante's head. The hunter backed away from the strike. "Look, kid, I know you're upset-"

Nero fumed. His voice was loud even with the ringing in his ears. _"Don't call me kid!"_

Yet again he stuck with this trusty, broken weapon at the unarmed man. Dante made no move to defend himself. For only a second, Nero vaguely wondered why. Then there was the clash of metal on metal and Red Queen was ripped from his hand. Nero's breath left him, and he hit the ground hard on his back, a throbbing in his chest and cold steel against his neck. He looked up into the stoic face of Vergil and felt his anger drain from him. Tears stung his eyes.

"Your anger is misplaced," that calm voice said. "You must learn to control your emotions."

Yamato was removed from Nero's throat. The youth slowly sat up, his breath coming in quick, jagged puffs. He smacked away Dante's hand as the hunter offered to help him up.

"Leave me alone," he hissed quietly.

Concentrating on the floor, Nero saw red and black boots retreat from his position. The brown ones stayed at his side.

"Stand up," Vergil told him.

The youth considered arguing. He had it in his mind to say that he just wanted to be left alone. That he was in no way obligated to follow Vergil's orders. That was what Nero wanted to say. Instead, he found himself standing, looking into the ice blue eyes of the elder man.

"Follow me."

Vergil began to walk in slow, steady strides toward the rear door. Nero followed a few steps behind. A crisp, warm air blew through the youth's snowy hair as they exited the castle. Looking up, Nero saw the welcoming blue sky of a bright spring day.

He and Vergil ascended a flight of steps that led to an overgrown, yet fragrant, garden. It must have been beautiful in the days that the castle was well maintained. Even as a shadow of its former self, the landscape was breathtaking. Trees were budding with fresh leaves, the bushes carried fresh blooms of roses and chrysanthemums. The center fountain was dry and cracked, infested with ivy. Yet it still held a unique magnificence. Nero couldn't take his eyes from the angelic adornment that rested atop the structure. Her stone gown was riddled with honeysuckle and the vine seemed to pour from the pitcher she held.

"Athena," Vergil spoke after a long moment. "Goddess of wisdom."

Nero said nothing. From the corner of his eye, he saw Vergil look at him.

"Anger is a natural response when one feels they have been treated unjustly. But to submit to such childish tantrums is an act of folly and cowardice."

Ire began to creep back within Nero. "So, what? You want me to act more like you? Selfish? Heartless?"

Vergil's lip quirked in a half smile and he let out a short, flat chuckle. "Your opinion of me is irrelevant. I'm only suggesting that you try to harness your rage in a more productive fashion."

Nero scoffed and Vergil was silent for a moment. When next he spoke, it was with a hint of interest. "Do you really think Dante deserved to be the target of your outburst?"

Nero looked away. Upon calming, he had known he had acted rashly. At the moment he'd been so furious that he hadn't given any thought to who he hurt. Looking back on how he'd reacted, that scared him. He couldn't fathom what he would do if he ever got that angry around Kyrie. He would never forgive himself if he ever hurt her. He knew Vergil was right, that he needed to control his temper. But that the advice was coming from Vergil made him hesitant to heed it.

"I didn't really picture you for the protective brother type," he said. "Didn't you try to kill Dante?"

Vergil held a steady gaze in face of the accusation. "Yes," he admitted flatly. "But my relationship with my brother isn't why I'm advising you to learn control."

Nero watched him with uncertainty. He wasn't sure where Vergil was going with this conversation, but he doubted it was being held out of concern for himself. Thus far, the elder twin had displayed little interest in anyone within the group aside from his own self. Yet, he had surprised the young man with descent judgment on a few occasions already. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to hear him out.

Vergil held up Yamato and stared lovingly at the mirror shine of the blade. "This is a very powerful sword," he told Nero. "It was given to me by my father and is the embodiment of my abilities. To properly wield such a weapon requires strength, discipline and control." He looked at the boy. "So far you have managed to tap into some of Yamato's vast potential. But if you wish to be a true master of this sword, you must learn to contain your rage."

It took Nero a minute to understand what Vergil's words meant. When he did, he was more than a little awestruck. "You're giving it back to me?"

Vergil sighed and, for a moment, his years and trials shown on his features. He looked older and wiser. Naught but a faint glimmer of what Nero had been told about the man was evident in his eyes. "It would seem that I no longer have any use for such a blade," he confessed.

Twirling the sword, Vergil held the hilt toward Nero. The youth took it from him, much in the same way that he had taken it from Dante a year prior. He managed to favor the other man with a genuine grin and a heartfelt muttered thanks before the weapon was absorbed into his demonic arm.

Having completed his business Vergil's demeanor resumed its former nothingness. "We should return to the chamber," he said.

With that alone, he turned and headed back the way they'd come. Nero followed willingly.


	26. Chapter 26

As he and Vergil approached the stairs leading back into the sanctum, Nero saw smoke was billowing from the doorway, carrying with it the foul stench of burning flesh. There was too much smoke to attribute to a fiery corpse alone, therefore Nero surmised that Abigail must have set the entire castle aflame. She was now standing at the edge of the garden, watching. Dante was at her side, his arms crossed over his chest. Occasionally, the hunter would look at the vampire beside him and his lips would move in quiet conversation. Whether or not Abigail returned these sentiments, Nero couldn't tell. But she must have because Dante would nod before resuming his stare at the structure.

Nero was bewildered by what could now be consider friendly banter between Dante and Abigail. For two beings that claim such hatred, and only moments before been ready to kill each other, to now be on civil terms was odd.

Dante glanced back at Vergil and Nero as the they came to stand next to the duo. The twins exchanged a mirrored look, then everyone was gazing at Castillo Vivientes. A thick silence that seemed almost spiritual hung on the light breeze.

Nero let his mind wonder. It felt like a lifetime since he'd stood comfortably in the open air. The last few months had been tense and harrowing. It was nice to have a reprieve, even if it was short lived. Taking a deep breath, he broke the quiet.

"So, what now?"

No one looked away, but Abigail answered. "The continuation of the battle," she said with a hint of sadness.

Nero looked over at her. He half expected to see her crying. But her amber eyes were dry, attentive to watching her former home's reduction to ash. Though he still felt ire at her betrayal, Nero was beginning to understand why Abigail had chosen to feign disinterest in his fate, as well as Dante and Vergil's. He wasn't ready to forgive her yet, but he was ready to take the first step in that direction.

"The newborns are still a threat," she said. "But now they are without guidance. The noble demon hunter has permitted me to aid in their destruction."

Nero's brow creased in uncertainty as he realized that Abigail had referred to Dante with a polite title lacking condescension. Not only that, but she had inferred that she'd asked his permission to assist him. The youth was not sure what had transpired between the pair of them while he and Vergil spoke, but it was clear that they had reached a mutual understanding of sorts.

Deciding Dante and Abigail's relationship was unimportant at the moment, Nero nodded. "Now that it's settled," he said, "let's get this done. Where do we start?"

All attention was turned away from the castle for the first time since its fate had been decided. The four of them stood facing each other.

"Well," Dante began, "I gotta head back to Devil May Cry and inform Trish of our next move." He looked at Nero. "I guess you want to go back to Fortuna. You can take care of things on that end."

"I will remain in Constantine," Abigail stated. "There will, no doubt, be an uprising from the townsfolk. The people are more inclined to listen to me than anyone else."

Nero wondered how Constantine's inhabitants would react to the change in ways. For so many years they had coexisted with the vampires. Now they would have to get used to a new way of life. It was almost heartbreaking to think that many of them would consider the extermination of their symbiotic partners a bad thing.

He glanced at Vergil. The other remained motionless.

"What about you, bro?" Dante asked.

Vergil was silently thoughtful for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose – if you were to give me a proper weapon – that I could be of assistance."

Dante gave his twin a smile. "I think I can manage that. I got just the sword for you. It's back at my shop."

Vergil sighed with indifference. "I was hoping to avoid that condemned structure you chose for your business," he said. "But so long as you have a suitable blade, one visit wouldn't be a complete waste of time."

The hunter laughed. "It's good to have you back, Vergil."

After giving his brother a quick pat on the shoulder, Dante began a slow, aimless walk along the path that led to the front of the castle. Nero started to follow him.

"Hey, Dante-"

The hunter turned and gave him a wave. "Don't worry about it, kid. We're cool."

Nero shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thought I asked you not to call me kid anymore," he called after the hunter, who never stopped walking.

Abigail met Nero's eye as he turned back. She didn't say anything, but he saw remorse in her face. He tried to smile, to let her know he understood. But he instead found himself looking at his feet. He wasn't ready just yet to set it all aside. He needed to go home first. To make sure Kyrie was safe, that his former way of life could be salvaged. Then – if he saw Abigail again – he could tell her that they were still friends.

For now, he wanted her to know that her actions had caused distrust. He wanted her to be aware that things may never be the same.

"I will escort you to the train station," Abigail spoke. "To ensure there is not an excessive amount of trouble from the people."

"That's not necessary," Vergil told her. "I'm certain we can take care of ourselves."

Abigail nodded. "I'm sure. But that's not my concern. The humans here fear you. My presence will help to ease some of their anxiety."

Vergil seemed slightly amused by her claim. "Very well," he said. He motioned for her to lead the way, then fell into stride beside her. Nero followed silently.

The cobblestone path was cracked and riddled with weeds. It led in a circle all the way around the castle and through the garden that lay behind it. Nero guessed it must have been a magnificent trek when Constantine was under the control of the dynasty. It was scenic and serene. He felt it a shame that all that beauty was let go to waste. It would have been a lovely place to live. Kyrie would have enjoyed the garden.

Nero sighed. He wished he were able to give Kyrie a home this grand. A place where she could grow a multitude of different flowers in a space large enough to contain them. Instead, they were confined to a four-room apartment with only a planter box full of daisies. He wondered why she even stayed with him sometimes. She deserved a better life than he could ever give her.

Nero put his thoughts aside as he caught the voices of Abigail and Vergil in quiet conversation.

"Don't think that we're even," Vergil was saying. "You are still indebted to me, and I have every intention of collecting."

Abigail let out a musical laugh. "Oh, so you do remember our agreement. I feared you might have forgotten in your absence."

"Feared?" Vergil asked with a grin. "Or hoped?"

"Why do you continue to doubt me, Vergil? Have I ever lied to you?"

Vergil took a deep breath. "Not lie, no. But omit information to protect yourself, no matter the cost to anyone else; yes. Of that, you are exceedingly guilty."

"I do what I must to ensure my own safety. Doesn't everyone?"

Vergil let out a humph. He stopped walking and turned to Abigail. "In your long life you have managed to make an enemy out of Sparda as well as his descendants, yet you still entertain the notion that you're safe."

Abigail gazed up at the man. If she took his threat seriously, it didn't show on her face. Her lip was curled in a tiny grin of amusement. "You already know what you want in return," she stated.

Vergil looked at Nero, who was watching them silently. "We will finish this discussion when you return to Capulet City," he told Abigail.

She gave him a contemptuous nod. "As you wish, sir."

Ignoring the glower she received in return, Abigail resumed walking. Vergil gazed after her for a moment, as if contemplating the best course of action, then looked at Nero with disinterest.

"What was that about?" the younger asked.

Vergil offered no explanation, but to turn away and begin a purposeful gait in the direction of town. His long blue coat rustled in the gentle wind as he walked.

Nero had not expected an answer to his question, therefore he was unaffected by the other man's mute response. He was content to let whatever arrangement Vergil had made with Abigail remain a mystery to him. Right now, the youth had his own concerns. He was going home. A journey he was more than ready for.

Glancing up at the reassuring sky overhead, Nero smiled. He hoped Lady had not vanquished all the bloodsuckers that remained in Fortuna. The young knight was looking forward to accomplishing that feat on his own. It had been a few days since he'd had a solid fight. Besides, he was eager to show the leeches what happened when they invaded his turf.

Resolved and confident, Nero began his own trek toward town. He couldn't wait to get this done.


	27. Chapter 27

Nero sat on the bench, alone, watching the sun set beyond the ocean horizon. It was a beautiful evening. Perfect for taking a much-needed sabbatical from the pressures of the last week. It was the first time since coming home that the youth had gotten a break from chaos. Now that the threat of the vampire overtaking was dispelled, Nero was intent on enjoying his solitude.

He sighed, remembering how glad he'd been to return to Fortuna after his visit to Constantine. His first stop had – of course – been to see Kyrie. They'd been able to steal only a few emotional minutes before duty had parted them.

After ensuring that his beloved was safe, the young knight made his way to headquarters to update Captain Balwin of the current situation. Lady had been there, too. She had arrogantly informed Nero of her ability to drive back most of the leeches from the city limits. But he was pleased to hear that a few still attempted to gain advantage.

Nero let Balwin handle the politics of notifying the surrounding towns and responsibility of organizing an offense while he went off alone to hunt the bloodsuckers. The decision was accepted with only a bit of thought given to protocol. Nero's suspension was revoked, and he was given a standard issue sword to use until such time as he could repair Red Queen.

After offering Nero assistance, and being assured it wasn't needed, Lady returned to Capulet City to help Dante organize a plan of attack. Between her, the hunter, Trish and Vergil, the vampires didn't stand a chance.

Leaning back on the seat, Nero let out a contented sigh. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the soft caress of the wind on his face. Port Caerula was the only place Nero felt truly at home. It was here that his mind was relieved of all worry, that he felt like he really belonged.

"There's an exonerating quality to the dusk, don't you think?"

Nero turned and looked at Vergil. The other man was gazing at the sunset with a nostalgic expression of contentment. The youth felt unexpectedly accepting of the intrusion and scooted over to offer Vergil room to sit down.

"How's that new sword working for you?" Nero asked as Vergil agreed to the request.

The elder man grinned at Alastor as he placed the double-edged blade across his lap. "Well," he answered. "I was impressed with Dante's choice. I'd expected something a bit more disagreeable."

Nero smiled. He had a feeling that Dante's act of bestowing Vergil with a powerful blade like Alastor was the hunter's way of showing trust in his brother's judgment. He also had the idea that Vergil was more flattered by the gift than he was willing to express.

"Speaking of swords," Vergil said as he handed Nero a small, unadorned suitcase, "this should be sufficient in repairing yours."

Nero took the case with a bemused countenance. Upon opening it, his expression quickly became one of awe. He picked up one of the wrapped stacks of bills and fanned them. Given the amount of each bill, the sum of each stack and the number of stacks, he deduced that the suitcase contained a quarter of a million dollars. That was ten times what he needed for parts to fix Red Queen.

"Where did you get all this money?" he questioned.

Vergil's face betrayed nothing more than its customary secretive visage. "I called in a favor."

"Oh," Nero mused, with a quick chuckle of understanding. "This is what you wanted in return for helping Abigail destroy the vampire lord."

"I wasn't my first choice," Vergil said. "But it seemed the most fitting."

Nero closed the case. He held it out to Vergil. "Thanks. But I can't take it."

The other man made no move to take the object back. "I don't understand why not."

The young knight shook his head. His mouth opened but he was unsure of what excuse to give. As their eyes met, Nero noticed sincerity in Vergil's gaze.

"The money is yours, Nero. You earned it. And, more importantly, it's owed to you."

"I don't need your money," Nero stated in a heartfelt tone.

"It's not a matter of necessity."

The young man lowered the case, along with his eyes. He felt an odd mixture of emotions, both at Vergil's presence and at his uncharacteristic kind sentiment. Nevertheless, he managed to keep an even tone when he spoke. "You feel like you gotta make up for not being around?"

Vergil remained silent.

"Cause I get it," Nero continued. "I'm fine. I mean, you know – It's fine."

After another minute of silence, Vergil laughed. Not humorously or condescendingly, but morosely. "Fine," he repeated. "If there's one thing I learned from my time under Mundus' control, it's that there are far worse things than death. That lesson was reiterated to me daily during my time in purgatory, where I was left with nothing but the memories of every contemptible action I'd ever committed and faced with their painful consequences." He looked at Nero. There was indescribable pain in his eyes as he shook his head. "That is not, by any definition, fine."

Nero wanted to say something but was ultimately mute. As he strove to think of some phrase to speak, Vergil regained his former composer.

"If you don't want the money, don't keep it. Give it away. Burn it. Do whatever you please with it. But I'll not take it back."

Taking a deep breath, the young man nodded. He sat the suitcase at his feet, deciding to keep it. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome."

Nero sat back and turned his eyes to the ever-darkening sky. "How long are you planning on staying in Fortuna?"

Vergil shifted his weight, also staring at the horizon. "I haven't decided. I suppose it would be prudent to stay. My father dwelt here for a time, and Fortuna does appeal to me. But," he added with a sigh, "to immerse myself in a society that worships Sparda for something he wasn't seems...illogical."

Nero chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."

The last ray of the sun's light gave way to a clear, navy sky as Nero and Vergil gazed upon the twinkling of the first star. For the first time in a long time, Nero knew who he really was. Despite the confusion and often feudal nature of his bloodline, he was content with life and the variety of options available to him. The power to decide his own destiny was one he would savor.

Nero smiled and decided to allow himself a few more moments with Vergil before going home to Kyrie.


End file.
